by Bobby Akart
Gunner leaned over the woman’s chair to get a closer look at her monitor. His tee shirt brushed against her shoulder. “Can you provide me the storm’s projected track?”
She tapped on her keyboard and revealed the new coordinates. The sustained winds were one hundred ten miles per hour, indicating a strong category two hurricane. Gusts were reaching one-forty.
“Sir, a high-pressure system caused the storm to stall in the gulf. And it steered it away from the Louisiana coastline on a due west path towards Brownsville.” She pointed to her monitor as she spoke.
Gunner stood and smiled. “What’s your name?”
“Kimmie.”
Gunner gently patted her on the shoulder. “Great job, Kimmie.”
He turned back toward Jackal’s desk, where Cam and Bear stood side by side, big grins smeared on their faces, their heads shaking in unison like a couple of choreographed bobblehead dolls.
As Gunner reached them, Cam leaned into him. “Great job, Kimmie,” she mockingly whispered, repeating his words to the attractive analyst. Then her tone of voice changed. “You wish, pal.”
“Wait? What? No,” Gunner began to protest. “I was simply complimenting her, um, tracking of the storm.”
“Yo, no judgment from me,” said Bear with a laugh as he held both hands in the air.
“Thanks, Bear,” said Gunner.
“I mean, that’s how these things start,” Bear continued, taking away all the goodwill he’d just established. “First, it’s a casual encounter. A compliment here and an accidental touch there. The next thing you know, boom-boom.” He raised his eyebrows and quietly pounded his fist into the palm of his left hand.
“Come on, man. Not you too,” groaned Gunner. He turned toward Cam, who was now grinning like the Cheshire cat. “As for you, I have something that’ll wipe that smile right off your face.”
“What’s that, sir?” she replied sarcastically but with her grin bigger than ever.
His reply was simple, yet confusing.
“Eye diving.”
Chapter Eleven
August 1944
Institute of Virology
Riems Island, Germany
Throughout Hitler’s reign as Führer of the Third Reich, German scientists were experimenting with chemical weapons on a tiny Baltic Sea island. Access to Riems Island was highly restricted. Its scientists, who wore personal protective equipment considered state of the art for the time, were required to have disinfectant showers upon entry and exit. Visitors underwent highly scrutinized security measures. In reality, the work of the scientists was so secretive and frightening, that no one, including high-ranking Nazi party officials, dared to request entry.
After the war, the Riems facility became a global center for the study of pathogens, ranging from African swine fever to Ebola. The biosafety level four laboratories there today were the highest level in Germany. Even the stables containing the infected animals, including alpacas, boars, cows, and sheep, the subject of the virologists’ study, were managed within a BSL-4 laboratory setting.
Very few people outside of those who continued to work on Riems Island were aware of the history of the facility. Few knew the detailed work undertaken by Dr. Kurt Blome and Erich Traub, two high-ranking Nazi scientists. And what remained an unspoken subject to this day was the fact that the stables containing animals once contained human subjects.
The virology institute supervised by Dr. Blome consisted of a single building together with the stables. It was expanded to accommodate Dr. Blome’s work on Project Tabun. As part of the biological warfare program assigned to him by Himmler, Blome’s institute was expanded.
The construction was assigned to Karl Gross, an SS officer and specialist in tropical diseases who had conducted experiments on seventeen hundred prisoners at the Mauthausen concentration camp. Gross ordered the construction of a ten-foot-high wall, built block by block by prisoners who’d later become the subject of Dr. Blome’s testing. By August of 1944, under the careful supervision of a special SS unit, the facility was expanded to include sections devoted to physiology, biology, bacteriology, and pharmacology. But the bulk of the operation was devoted to the development of sarin.
Other parts of the institute were busy as well. Himmler, looking for alternative chemical weapons, ordered Erich Traub, a veterinarian and virologist, to experiment on prisoners using the mass transmission of the malaria parasite to humans as well as the intentional exposure of bubonic plague.
Both of those studies were ongoing, but Dr. Blome’s research was given the highest priority. Himmler wanted to win the war, not simply cause the enemy combatants physical discomfort from which they might recover later. He demanded a death blow, and sarin was the solution. Yes, it was taboo by all definition. In Himmler’s mind, killing was killing regardless of the method.
With Himmler’s full support and promise of unlimited resources, Dr. Blome proceeded the day after the meeting at Wewelsburg Castle. The attempt on Hitler’s life on July 20 only served to hasten his efforts.
Dr. Blome had met with his colleagues, especially Traub. They’d gone over the arguments for and against Himmler’s Project Tabun. They discussed the human ramifications, but they also expressed their concerns about the catastrophic consequences of an error during their research. They began to question whether the ten-foot wall being constructed on Riems Island was to keep prying eyes from seeing in or to keep the sarin contained in the event of an accident.
At first, Dr. Blome had underestimated Himmler’s dedication to the project. He was left alone and not contacted by the Reichsführer for weeks. He later learned that Himmler’s mind was preoccupied with keeping the Reich together and ferreting out who was responsible for the assassination attempt on Hitler. Dr. Blome was not included in the plans to escape via Odessa.
He forged ahead under the minimal supervision of the SS-Wirtschafts und Verwaltungshauptamt, the Nazi organization responsible for managing the financing and business projects of the Reich. Dr. Blome couldn’t complain. After years of fighting for funding and improvements to his facility, now any request was met with swift fulfillment. More staff and more funding meant he could fulfill Himmler’s wishes without fear of repercussion. He’d seen what happened to those who failed to meet the Reichsführer’s expectations.
In late August of 1944, when the bombs began to fall on Berlin, the Institute on Riems Island became the recipient of additional scientists and materials. The manufacturing process of the sarin was increased tenfold. In addition, at Himmler’s request, design experimentation was undertaken to soak sponge material with the sarin.
On this day, a barge with a drop ramp docked at the island’s small boat ramp. Prisoners were taken off the building construction and ordered to unload the shipment. Thousands of titanium pressure vessels were delivered to Dr. Blome. Strong as steel but half the weight, titanium had the highest strength-to-weight ratio of all known metals.
And it didn’t oxidize in seawater. Salts, acids and other chemicals were seriously corrosive and damaging to lesser materials than titanium. This could lead to leakage of the contained substance.
This fact didn’t cross Dr. Blome’s mind as he supervised the delivery. He was unaware of Himmler’s plans for the delivery method of the sarin. His job was simple. Produce enough sarin to fill up the titanium vessels. And comply with Himmler’s latest directive—finish the first shipment by September 15, 1944.
Chapter Twelve
Aboard the Victory Casino Cruise Ship
One Hundred Miles East of Carvajal, Tamaulipas, Mexico
Gulf of Mexico
Abduwali Ali was losing control of some of his pirates. Reports were coming from the ship’s personnel that his men were molesting the women passengers, and there was one reported rape in a stateroom. In the meantime, he’d learned through monitoring social media on his computer tablet that one of the passengers was broadcasting details of the attack on Facebook and Instagram.
He’d become enraged a
t first. Partly at himself for not considering this possibility but also because the passengers were not sufficiently frightened. Did they think this was some kind of game?
To drive the point home, although he abhorred rape, he didn’t stop his men from terrorizing some of the females at first. Despite the passengers being confined to quarters, he knew they could communicate through the walls and connecting doors. He’d use that to his advantage by solving two problems at once.
He’d drag the Larkin girl and her family out of the cabin, leaving the impression to everyone on the stateroom floor that they were going to be raped. In actuality, he wanted them moved to the captain’s stateroom, where he could have better access to them and protect them from his own men. He’d placed a very large bounty on their heads, and he was certain the Larkin girl’s father, a U.S. congressman, would demand proof of life throughout the process. Abduwali had no intention of killing the girl unless they either refused to comply or tried to pull some type of ill-advised rescue.
In that regard, Abduwali was pleased with the good fortune bestowed upon him by Allah. The tropical storm had been upgraded to a hurricane, and it was now headed directly for the ship. He was not the least bit concerned that the Victory could withstand the beating of the high winds and waves. He was pleased to have a respite from watching the seas and the radar for approaching naval vessels attempting a rescue. Only a fool would attempt such under these weather conditions.
He calculated the time it would take for the two-hundred-mile-wide storm to pass. He identified that as the deadline for the U.S. congressman to make payment, or Lloyd’s of London, or whoever was prepared to transfer the ransom to the numbered account at Banco G&T Continental in Panama.
“Show me the money,” he muttered as he powered down his tablet, reciting his favorite line from an American movie. These were the four words that encouraged him to take these risks.
He motioned for his two lead gunmen, who’d been guarding the bridge, to bring him Captain Garland. They dragged him through the blood on the floor and stood him up to face Abduwali.
“I want you to disconnect the internet, but do not disable it completely. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” he replied. Garland had kept his interaction and responses to a minimum with his captor. “I’ll need to go to the control room in engineering.”
Abduwali studied Garland carefully. The man didn’t appear to be a hero. If anything, he seemed to be content to let things move forward as long as his life wasn’t at risk.
“Okay, go. No delays or detours.”
His men nodded and left him alone on the bridge as they escorted the captain to engineering. For the first time, Abduwali was able to relax. He reached into his Kevlar vest and found a tin of Macanudo cigars. The small ascots were just the right size to get a taste of tobacco without devoting more than ten to fifteen minutes to the smoke.
He hoisted himself up into the captain’s chair and swiveled mindlessly back and forth. As he enjoyed the cigar, he wondered if the bonus he’d earn from this, the largest piracy heist since he’d joined the Los Zetas, would be sufficient to leave their employment.
Then there was the matter of the cash situated in the ship’s vaults. Once he addressed the issue of the Larkin girl’s ransom, he planned on directing his men, with the captain’s assistance, to empty the vaults. His research indicated as much as two hundred thousand dollars might be on hand to bankroll their gaming operations.
Finally, if time allowed, he would allow his pirates to steal the passengers’ personal effects of value, namely jewelry. This was booty for the men to be used as they pleased. They could keep it. Give it to their girlfriends. Or trade it for cash. He didn’t care. It was part of his arrangement he’d made with his employers to give the crew some spoils of the piracy operation besides raping women.
The sound of shuffling feet and sobbing filled the passageway outside the bridge. He rose to greet his new guests when suddenly the Victory shook and rocked to the side before righting itself. The wind was howling and the rain was blowing sideways, pelting his face as it passed through the bridge.
The feeder bands of the hurricane had arrived.
Chapter Thirteen
NAS Corpus Christi
Texas Gulf Coast
With an incredible sense of urgency, the Gray Fox team showed why they were called upon for missions that required rapid deployment. Gunner, Cam, and Bear were family for all intents and purposes. They knew one another intimately and understood what their roles were. When it was time to get down to business, nobody could deploy to undertake an operation faster than they could.
The support team assembled by Ghost was second to none. He pulled personnel from all branches of the military and government. His people could handle the most complex logistical challenges. Within thirty minutes of Gunner laying out his rescue plan, the trio was wheels up for Naval Air Station Corpus Christi on the Texas Gulf Coast.
During the flight, they studied the ship’s deck plan, including video of the interior provided by Victory. Jackal kept them up to date of all developments as well as any changes in weather conditions.
By the time they arrived in Corpus Christi, all the military assets they needed were waiting for them. While they waited for the Air Force Hurricane Hunters to arrive with their WC-130 aircraft, in an oversized hangar, Gunner went over the plan with his fellow operatives while continuing to provide Cam some semblance of reassurance.
“Bear, you may be sitting this one out initially, but we’re gonna need you to come in hot and heavy when the storm passes,” said Gunner.
“Roger that,” he said, pointing at a trailer containing his ride. “They’ve really hooked me up. Check it out. It’s the new prototype of the Mako MK V. These things are made for medium-range insertions and extractions. Runs a cool fifteen million.”
“Jeez,” groaned Cam. “Do they know you’re driving it?”
“Yes. I bring things back in one piece.”
“You mean like the chopper in Ukraine last year?”
“That wasn’t my fault! There were powerlines.”
Cam didn’t let up. “Oh, right. That’s true. And who warned you they were there?”
Bear didn’t respond because Cam already knew the answer to that question.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now, back in one piece, and quit asking Ghost for shit. One of these days he’s gonna say yes, and you’re gonna have to figure out how to pay insurance on that thing.”
Gunner changed the subject. “How does it perform in pissed-off waters? You know, hurricane-churned waves.”
“Like a champ,” replied Bear. “It’s got shock mitigation built in to allow for high seas and heavy maneuvering. It’s got quite a set of guns on her, kinda like yours truly.” He showed off his massive biceps and winked at Cam. The two each got in their fair share of blows during their never-ending scrap.
Gunner leaned over a folding table and swung the laptop around to face him. He studied the radar of Hurricane Archie, which was superimposed over the location of the Victory.
“Great. Okay, let’s talk about the eye dive.”
“Yeah, let’s,” added Cam.
“Seriously, Cam, think about it. What does perfect weather for skydiving look like?”
She quickly replied, “No wind. No clouds. No snow. No thunderstorms. No tornadoes and especially no damn hurricanes.”
“Okay. Okay. Just consider this. Everyone knows the eye of the hurricane is one of the most surreal places to be. Here’s this huge, sometimes three-hundred-mile-wide tropical cyclone. Its winds are whipping at over a hundred miles per hour. It’s pulling warm waters out of the ocean, which gives it even more fuel.
“Yet in the center of this vortex is the eye. The eye can be anywhere from twenty to forty miles across. It’s perfectly clear. Almost windless with no rainfall. That’s because the eye wall, which is composed of the dense clouds creating the hurricane, is swirling counterclockwise so fast it can’t break awa
y from itself.”
“And you know this how?” she asked.
Gunner furrowed his brow and a bewildered look came over his face. “Whadya mean?”
“How do you know all of this?” Cam pressed him. “Have you ever been in the eye of a hurricane?”
“Well, no. But everybody knows—”
“Knows what? What they read on the internet or what that guy Chapman Boone spews on the Weather Channel?”
Gunner chose to remain silent, a technique Bear should learn when dealing with Cam.
She continued. “Okay, flyboy, let me ask you this. Do you know of anyone who has actually tried this?”
Gunner grimaced. “Well, not personally, of course. But I’ve read about skydivers who’ve looked at dropping through a tornado or a hurricane, you know, like those extreme sports things. But trying to drop through a tornado would be crazy.”
Cam burst out laughing and wandered around the table. The airmen preparing their gear stopped what they were doing to see what was so funny. Well, it wasn’t actually funny.
“And this isn’t? Look, Gunner. I’m all in. You know that. I’m just sayin’ I’d feel a little bit better knowing that someone has done this before.”
“I’m sure somebody has, and after we do it, we might actually be the first. Think of the YouTube video we’re gonna create. We’ll be famous.”
Cam rolled her eyes and shook her head. Men, strike that, boys were confounding.
“Well, let’s just say I’ll feel better when my feet hit the water.”
Gunner slapped Bear on the back and extended his fist to bump Cam’s. At first, she hesitated and then finally relented.
“That’s my partner. Seriously, no worries. What could go wrong?”
