Black Operations- the Spec-Ops Action Pack

by Eric Meyer

  I didn't need to reply. We both knew the answer. She gave me a cold smile.

  "I've been thinking about it ever since Smith mentioned Jeffs when I called him on my cell. It's been something of rumor in the Agency, that he harbored a grudge and planned to collect when he had the chance. I never thought he would go so far, but now I don't think there's any doubt."

  I told her about Mukhtar, his knowledge of Brad Olsen, his whereabouts, and his claim to have arranged his murder. That he knew about Manuel Salazar, dead in the villa.

  "He knew about the Hunter Killers?" she asked, surprised.

  "He knew everything. The only possibility is that someone sold us out. Jeffs. Maybe Smith too."

  "Not Smith," she shook her head, "No matter what he felt about Jeffs, he's straight down the line. Smith is a patriot. He'd put a bullet in his own mother's head if he thought she was a traitor. All he's guilty of is discussing your outfit and involving Jeffs in the current operation."

  We continued walking toward the Alexandria docks and soon found ourselves lost in a maze of wharfs and cranes. There was no sign of the Adriatic Ocean, and Winter asked a passing dockworker. He pointed to a wharf five hundred yards away, and we headed in that direction.

  There was a single lamp illuminating the bottom of the gangplank. A man was waiting there, wearing the blue jacket and braided uniform cap of a senior ship's officer. He came forward, a short, stocky man with the olive skin of his Greek homeland. He walked with that slight rolling gait that is common to seafarers, who need to constantly adjust their stance to cope with changing sea conditions.

  "I am Captain Nakos. Please come aboard quickly. There maybe people watching. Egypt is not a healthy place to be at the moment."

  I made no comment, but I thought of those people who'd found it especially unhealthy. Brad Olsen; slaughtered at the behest of a supposedly religious leader, Mullah Mukhtar. Manuel Salazar, his remains in the ruined villa at Nag Hammadi. Niall Quinn, a man tortured by his calling, and the more practical necessities of maintaining a small church in a poor neighborhood. His broken and bloodied body left behind in the aftermath of the shootout inside the Nile Hilton. And there was Sabrina, also lying dead in the hotel room in Cairo, killed by her father's bodyguards. Maybe Isra, for it seemed unlikely he'd have been able to escape the slavering mob.

  There were others, Khan, the double-crossing smuggler, plenty of other men, all of them on the side of death and destruction, Islamists to the core. Mukhtar himself, killed at the hand of his own daughter. None of them mattered. I recalled that expression from JFK in his inaugural speech. 'In the past, those who foolishly sought power by riding on the back of the tiger ended up inside.' Those guys had surely ended up inside the belly of the tiger, eaten by their own brutal, greedy grab for power. Serve 'em right.

  "I thought there were three passengers," Nakos mentioned as we walked up the gangplank.

  "There were," I replied, "She gave her life so that we could make it."

  "She!" Winter looked surprised.

  "She," I affirmed, "She deserved that, and a damn sight more."

  She looked solemn. "You know, I was growing quite fond of Isra. After you forced the issue of his visa, sorry, her visa, for the States, I was looking forward to getting to know the kid better. Isra was one of the best."

  "Damn right."

  I looked around the ship with interest. The vessel was quite old and streaked with rust. She was about two hundred feet in length, with a high superstructure aft, a long, open deck, and a forecastle in the prow. It looked like a heap of junk. Captain Nakos read my expression.

  "I know; she doesn't look much, but she has been plying the Mediterranean for the past sixty years without incident."

  "What speed can she do?"

  "Maximum about ten knots," he replied instantly, "They fitted a new Caterpillar engine ten years ago, and we normally make about ten miles every hour."

  I did a quick estimate in my head and ran the math. "About two thousand miles to Marseille, that means eight days before we reach port."

  He inclined his head. "Very good. Perhaps not the quickest means of transport, but I promise to get you there. We also have a bow thruster, so we are able to leave port without the normal risk of collision."

  "That's good to know. I wouldn't want anything to slow us down."

  Winter smiled and looked at Nakos. "Could you show us to our cabin, Captain?"

  He gave her a half bow. "Naturally, please come this way. You will have the first mate’s cabin. He is sharing with the second mate."

  "Was it a problem?"

  He chuckled. "Nothing a few of your American dollars couldn't resolve."

  * * *

  Alexandria Docks, Egypt

  We were standing in the cabin allocated to us, and I couldn't decide which of us felt more awkward. There'd been a time, eons ago, when Winter and I had slept together, when I thought the beautiful CIA agent was the most wondrous female in the world. That was before I found out about the other Winter Moss, the deceit, backstabbing, the lies. And yet, she'd changed. I didn't know the reason, but the animosity I'd felt toward her for so long had faded. She'd saved our asses on more than one occasion, and I even got the impression she was prepared to go into bat for me against her own organization.

  "Do you want the bed, or shall I take it?"

  I regarded her, and she had an expression that was solemn, as if she knew the extent of my loss. And understood it, and how I felt like I'd been hollowed out inside and would forever live in the shadow of what might had been.

  "You take the bed. As soon as we are at sea, I want to go topside and get some fresh air. I've got a lot of thinking to do."

  "About?"

  My reply was automatic. I was still one of the Hunter Killers. The only Hunter Killer left alive. "About who I'm going to kill."

  I paced the deck through that long night, careful to keep away from the side of the ship next to the wharf. I eventually managed a few hours sleep, bedded down on a rug in the center of the cabin. I was awakened by the noise and bustle of the ship’s preparations for departure and went outside to the companionway that led up to the bridge. Winter followed me, and we stood at the back and watched. Nakos was there, giving orders to his sailors, who were scurrying around severing the umbilical connections to the shore. Telephones, electricity, and then the huge, heavy mooring lines. There was only a single line at each end of the ship, fore and aft. I waited for them to cast off, and waited. It didn’t happen.

  I rushed to the front of the bridge and saw a Harbor Police launch. It had cut right across the bow of the ship and stopped. There was no way the Adriatic Ocean could proceed to sea. I looked at Nakos.

  "What can you do?"

  "Do? I can do nothing. I will have to wait for the police to board us and make their intentions clear."

  "Dammit, Captain, you know what their intentions are. They're searching for us."

  He shrugged. "There's nothing I can do."

  I looked around desperately, but going ashore was also impossible. A cop car with flashing lights was racing along the wharf, heading toward the ship. So they knew we were aboard, someone had dropped the dime on us. I looked across the harbor to the other side where a lone man stood watching. He wasn't Egyptian. He looked more like an American, a familiar figure from my past. I felt a surge of anger, knowing how helpless we were, and how much I want to kill him. But there was no way. We were trapped on the ship, and the ship couldn't move.

  We were fucked.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Captain was already giving orders to secure the ship back to the wharf. And then Winter pushed forward. She murmured, "These bow thruster things. Don't they push the front of the ship outward from the dock? I mean…"

  The bow thrusters! I turned to the Captain.

  "Use the bow thrusters, man. Get us out of here!"

  He shrugged again, an expression that I later realized he used several times a day.

  "Impossible! They will
put me in prison if I ignore the order to stop."

  I went for my gun, but Winter was ahead of me. Somehow, coming from a woman it made it even more of a threat.

  "You hit those bow thrusters, motherfucker, or you won't be going to any prison. I'll blow your head off and toss your corpse into the sea."

  There was a moment of silence as he considered his position. Then he made yet another of his trademark shrugs and gave the order.

  "Start starboard bow thruster, maximum power."

  The helmsman gave him a startled glance. "But, Captain…"

  "Do it, you fool. I don't have a choice."

  The man hadn't seen the gun, but then he looked to Winter and saw the Mini Glock held next to the Captain's head. His hand shot out to a secondary control panel, and we heard the noise of an engine starting. There was a small lever next to the start button, and he pushed it all the way forward. The engine that powered the thruster roared as it went to full power, and we could see a huge maelstrom of water churned up between the ship and the wharf. Immediately, the vessel began moving away from the wharf, but the bowline was still fastened. The Captain snatched up a microphone.

  "Let go the forward bow line, quickly!"

  A seaman ran forward and let go the line. Freed from the shore, the ship swung away from the obstructing harbor patrol vessel.

  "Full ahead," the Captain ordered, and the helmsman pushed the engine room repeater that would give the order to the engineer to go to full power. The loudspeaker fixed inside the bridge instantly came to life.

  "Captain, are you sure? Full power, this close to the harbor?"

  "Give it everything you've got!" he almost sobbed.

  I smiled. Winter had the barrel of the Glock screwed tight into his head, right behind the ear.

  The noise of the engine rose to a crescendo, the deck plates vibrated, and the ship began heading toward the harbor mouth. It was a long way from the wharf, probably two miles before we left the shelter of the long line of rocks that protected the harbor and emerged into the open sea. And then another three miles before we left Egyptian territorial waters and reached the relative safety of the open sea. At full speed, I calculated we'd need half an hour before we were safe.

  We had one thing going in our favor. Egypt was in a state of turmoil, with half the nation on the side of the Brotherhood, and the other side giving their allegiance to the military takeover. It meant that normal chains of command had collapsed, and I estimated we stood a chance, albeit a slight chance, of making it. And I was determined to make it. I wasn't certain about the identity of the man I'd seen standing the other side of the dock, but I had a pretty good idea. I was damn sure I’d pay him a visit, as soon as we'd escaped the clutches of the Egyptians.

  "Schaeffer!"

  I turned to Winter. "What is it?"

  "Look!"

  The long line of rocks, the breakwater protecting the harbor, stretched for almost a mile. We were riding parallel to it and maybe half a mile away or less. At first, I couldn't make out what she meant. Spray was breaking over the rocks and obscuring them from view. And then I saw it. Impossible!

  "Captain, your binoculars. Quick, man."

  He handed them to me and I focused. It was scarcely believable; a slim girl in a short, silk dress, racing from rock to rock, and leaping nimbly across the gaps between them.

  "Isra!"

  "We have to do pick him up," she murmured, "I don't know how, but that little guy has got the courage of a lion."

  "Girl," I corrected.

  She waved away. "Whatever. Captain, that kid on the rocks, we have to get her aboard."

  He was lucky. If he'd given another of his shrugs, I'd have punched him in the guts. Instead, he took the binoculars back from me and looked across at the rocks.

  "The girl?"

  "The girl," I affirmed, "How can you get her aboard?"

  Before he could answer, I spotted the men who'd just appeared and were racing along the rocks, running her down. Muslim Brotherhood, without a doubt. So Isra had got away, but they'd picked up the trail and had her trapped on the rocks. Right then, I wished I had the M-60 we'd left in the Mercedes. I'd have blasted them without a second thought.

  "We could launch a boat," Nakos replied, "but it will slow us down, and the police launch will overhaul us."

  I stared aft, and sure enough, the launch that had blocked us was following.

  "Isn't there any alternative?"

  "No."

  We had to stop that boat getting any nearer. "Winter, go to the back of the ship and hold off the police boat. I'll stay here and keep an eye on Nakos. He'll have to launch a boat to pick her up."

  She nodded and went aft.

  "Captain Nakos, launch a boat. Pick her up."

  I saw him mumble a curse under his breath, but then he picked up the bridge microphone and gave the order. He turned to the helmsman.

  "Reduce speed, stop engine, we're launching a boat."

  "The hell you are!" I snarled, "Keep the ship moving."

  "But we cannot launch the boat if…"

  "I'm not giving you the option, Captain. Get that boat in the water, and keep the ship moving."

  He gave another shrug, but I let that one go. Then he ordered the crew to launch the boat. There was plenty of grumbling, but finally I watched the boat slide down from the davits and hit the water, with two crewmen inside. It almost overturned. The ship's speed caused a huge bow wave to build up in front of it, but they started the little engine and chugged away to the rocks. The police launch was getting nearer, and behind me I heard the 'pop' as Winter fired her first shot. Then two more, and the launch veered away, but now it was heading toward the boat sent to pick Isra up from the rocks. It was already out of pistol range.

  "Captain! You have to intersect that launch."

  His mouth opened to object, and I could see him pointing at the rocks. They were threatening sure, but if we hit them, they were unlikely to kill him. My Glock was another matter. A headshot would leave no doubt. He went to give the order to the helmsman, but then pushed the man aside and took the wheel himself.

  He spun the spokes, and the ship altered course to position itself between the launch and the ship’s boat. It was still a near thing. I took back the Captain's binoculars and used them to keep an eye on how Isra was doing. The boat almost reached her and then stopped. I could see the jagged shapes of rocks sticking out of the water. There was a gap of about twenty feet she had to cross, and I wanted to shout, "Swim!"

  But there was no need. She was no fool. She plunged into the water and breaststroke her way across to the boat. The sailors pulled her aboard and put the engine astern to take the tiny craft away from the rocks. I glanced down at the police launch. There was still a narrow gap between the ship and the rocks, and the helmsman was trying to thread his way through to get to the ship’s boat."

  "Ram him!" I shouted at the Captain, "Sink the bastard."

  He was still clutching the wheel, and he looked at me in disbelief. But guns have an eloquence all of their own, and there was no need for me to make the point any clearer. He spun the wheel, and the ship turned hard to starboard. At first, the crew manning the launch didn't see what he intended. When they did, it was too late. The Adriatic Ocean smashed into the side of the launch and ripped clean through it, leaving half of the wrecked launch floating on either side of the ship. He didn't wait any longer, just pulled the engine room telegraph all the way back for emergency astern.

  The sea churned underneath the stern of the ship, as the huge screw fought the colossal forward momentum of the four hundred ton vessel. The bow went closer and closer to the rocks. The deck tilted slightly as the ship went aground, but already the powerful Caterpillar engine was thrusting backward, and there was more screeching and grinding as the Adriatic Ocean began moving astern. I heard a sigh of relief from one of the crew, and the Captain crossed himself.

  "The boat is alongside," Winter shouted to me.

  She'd returned fr
om her station at the rear of the ship, now there was nothing more to shoot at.

  "Are they back on board?"

  "The crew is hoisting the boat now. We can head out into open water."

  I looked at Captain Nakos. "Get this tub moving, Captain. Give it everything you've got."

  He stared back at me. "When we get into the open sea, we'll be a target for the Egyptian Navy."

  "If you don't get into the open sea, you'll be a target for my pistol. It's your choice."

  He was sensible enough to slam the engine room telegraph forward, back to full ahead. Slowly, the ship stopped its rearward motion and began going forward again. A few minutes later, the bows pushed through the gap between the breakwater and the land, out into the ocean.

  Winter stayed on the bridge while I went down to the deck and found Isra shivering in her wet clothing and apoplectic with rage.

  "Schaeffer! This is terrible."

  "Terrible! You made it, Isra. With any luck, we'll get clean away."

  "You don't understand," she grumbled, "My dress, look at it! Do you know what this cost? I'll never get another, never."

  I smiled. "Winter and me will pay for a dozen dresses when we get back to the States. We owe you that much, and more. What you did back there with the Brotherhood was incredible."

  "It wasn't incredible, Schaeffer. It was payback for all the beatings and bullying I've had from those kind of people. It'll make them think twice next time they want to beat up on someone like me."

  "There's no doubt about that," I agreed, "I'd better get you down to the cabin. You can take a hot shower, and we’ll see if the Captain can rustle up some dry clothes for you."

  He gave me a sideways look. "I never wear pants, you know. My figure looks awful in pants. Tell him it has to be a dress."

  "I'll tell him."

  I left Isra in the cabin and went back to the bridge. Fortunately, the Captain traveled with his wife who was on board and in his cabin. "She rarely comes out while we're at sea," he explained, "She hates it."