“And mine,” Anna added. “Given the nature of my involvement, I’m not keen to see this drag out either. I’ll drop some veiled threats to the insurers that Her Majesty’s Government would like this concluded expeditiously.”
Alex sighed. “Well, there’s nothing more we can do now. The counter has been made. We just have to hope it isn’t so low that it’s angered the buggers and hardened their position. I’m anxious to hear from Ward on that point.”
Dugan’s cell phone vibrated on the table, and he glanced at the caller ID. “Speak of the devil,” he said.
“Jesse,” said Dugan. “We were just talking about you. Any word—”
“We? Are you with Alex and Anna?” Ward asked.
“Yeah, they’re right here.”
“Best put me on speaker,” Ward said. “They’ll want to hear this. And check your email.”
Dugan activated the speaker function, placed his phone in the middle of the table, then pulled his laptop over and opened his email. “Go ahead, Jesse,” he said. “You’re on speaker and I’m opening my email. I see one message from you with an attachment. Looks like a video clip.”
“That’s it,” Ward said. “Yesterday an American flag ship, M/T Luther Hurd, carrying a full cargo of jet fuel for Diego Garcia was hijacked off the Horn of Africa. There were—”
“As in the Panama Luther Hurd, the Hanley new build?” asked Dugan.
“The same,” Ward said.
“But how could that happen?” Alex asked. “Surely, given the cargo and destination, there was a security presence.”
They heard Ward’s sigh through the speaker. “It’s easier to show you than tell you,” Ward said. “Play the video clip. But be warned, it’s tough to watch.”
Anna and Alex moved around the conference table beside Dugan, as he opened the video. They saw an aerial view of a ship in the distance, taken from an aircraft. The ship loomed larger as the camera closed on it, and then the camera circled the ship, making it obvious it was footage taken from a helicopter.
The ship was underway, but no one was visible on deck or on the bridge wings. However, there were four men on the flying bridge, standing by the handrails at each corner of the wheelhouse. The camera zoomed in to show the men bound to the handrails, each with a strange collar around his neck. As the camera panned over them, the men stared up at it, their terror obvious.
“Wh … what are those collars?” asked Alex.
A light began blinking on one of the collars, and the man wearing it screamed and tugged at the restraints binding him to the handrail, attracting the attention of the cameraman, who zoomed in closer still. There was a flash and the man’s head disappeared, to reappear tumbling through the air. It landed on the main deck below, as the headless body collapsed to sit on the deck, torso held upright by wrists bound to the top handrail. The three other men looked dazed, the closest covered with his shipmate’s blood, then all began to scream and tug at their bonds. The cameraman held focus on the ship, but the ship began to fade into the distance as the chopper beat a hasty retreat.
Dugan stared at the screen, blood drained from his face, the pencil he’d been twiddling snapped in half. Anna suppressed a strangled sob, and Alex sat wordless, moving his mouth as if trying to speak but not producing a sound. Dugan spoke first.
“The bastards,” he said through clenched teeth.
Ward’s voice came from the speaker. “That was filmed by a chopper from Luther Hurd’s escort, the USS Carney. The hijackers didn’t even issue a warning until they’d killed the first guy to prove they meant business. Only then did they contact Carney on the VHF and order the immediate withdrawal of the chopper. The chopper withdrew, of course, and the hijackers informed Carney they would execute a crewman every thirty seconds if Carney violated a buffer zone of five nautical miles.”
“If Luther Hurd had an escort, how the hell did the pirates get on in the first place? And wasn’t there a security force onboard as well?” Dugan asked.
“There was supposed to be a private security team onboard,” Ward said. “But since the revolution last year, the Egyptians haven’t been very accommodating. Last week they began to enforce a ‘no security team, no weapons’ ban on merchant ships in Egyptian waters. My guess is that wasn’t a coincidence, and it left the ship wide-open for the hijackers to stow away at Suez.”
“What’s the navy doing now?” Dugan asked.
“What can they do?” Ward said. “After the hijackers decapitated the crewman, the Carney pulled back and shadowed the Luther Hurd at the specified five-mile distance. We’re dispatching more ships to the area, as are the UK and several NATO allies. Based on her current course, it looks like she’s headed for Harardheere, where your own Phoenix Lynx is being held.”
“Bloody hell,” Anna said, now recovered. “Does it get any worse?”
“Unfortunately, it does,” Ward said. “The hijackers must have had a camera of their own mounted to film the decapitation. It’s starting to show up on several radical Islamic websites.”
“Radical Islamic websites?” Dugan said. “Aren’t we dealing with pirates?”
“I was coming to that,” Ward said. “Al-Shabaab, the al-Qaeda affiliate, has taken credit. They’ve issued a statement via al-Jazeera, refusing any monetary ransom, and a list of terrorists they insist be freed. The list includes the names of over a hundred dangerous terrorists held in a dozen countries. The logistics alone of dealing with that many jurisdictions make it an impossible demand on its face, even if anyone was inclined to free terrorists. They claim they’ll kill all the hostages and blow up the ship if their demands aren’t met.”
Dugan buried his face in his hands, then looked up. “OK. We understand, Jesse. Where do we stand?”
“I’m scrambling to get in front of this new situation, which leaves you without help, I’m afraid. I need to focus all my resources on al-Shabaab.”
“Understood,” Dugan said. “But could you try to get the pirates’ reaction to the five-million-dollar counter before you pull out?”
There was a prolonged pause. “I don’t think you understand, Tom. This is a game changer,” Ward said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Somali piracy just became unambiguously linked to terrorist activity, and the US, the UK, and many other countries have a clear policy of refusing to negotiate with terrorists. That includes allowing ransoms to be paid by US or UK citizens or companies.”
“But they’re different groups,” Dugan said.
“Not to the general public,” Ward said. “Public perception drives politics, and politicians make policy. Homeland Security is notifying US ship owners and insurers as we speak. Anna can check on her end, but I’ll be very surprised if the Brits aren’t doing something similar. It’s always been a gray area, and rightly or wrongly, this pushed it over the line.”
“Agent Ward,” Alex asked, “are these public pronouncements or private notices to the owners and insurers? At any given time, the pirates hold over a dozen ships and several hundred crewmen, all the subject of negotiations. There’s no telling what impact such a public pronouncement would have on the safety of the hostages, but I suspect the pirates will murder a few just to test the governments’ resolve.”
“That’s been considered,” Ward said. “For the moment, the notifications are verbal and no statements will be issued. Owners and insurers are free to continue talks, but no money can change hands. At least, that’s what US owners are being told. But it’s moot for us. The only US ship being held is the Luther Hurd, and Hanley’s not talking to anyone, except calling me every thirty minutes to scream in my ear.”
“So what you’re saying is that we’re screwed and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. Does that about cover it?” Dugan asked.
“Look, Tom. I’m sorry about—”
“We understand,” Anna said. “But unless you’ve something else, we should ring off and check things from our end before someone lets the cat out
of the bag.”
“No. That’s it,” Ward said, and they said their goodbyes.
Anna looked at Alex. “I’ll ring MI5 HQ if you’ll contact the insurers.”
Alex nodded, reaching for his phone, and Dugan stood to pace in front of the windows. He was not reassured by the bits of overheard conversation. Anna finished first, and Dugan sat down again, as they both waited for Alex to hang up. When he did, he didn’t look pleased. He motioned for Anna to go first.
“Right,” she said. “Long story short, HQ basically confirmed what Ward told us. Ransoms are prohibited and they’re in the process of notifying owners and insurers. We’re on the list to be notified, but they’re starting with the major insurers first. No public announcement and no prohibition against talking to the pirates, but no money can change hands. What’d you find out, Alex?”
“Much the same. Our insurers intend to drag out negotiations as long as possible. From what they said, it seems all the major insurers are taking the same approach. I suppose no one wants to worsen an already horrible situation.” Alex sighed. “In retrospect, I suppose our low-ball offer puts us ahead of the game. We can’t have the buggers agreeing to a ransom we can’t pay.”
“How much time do you think we have before the pirates figure things out and it starts to get ugly?” Dugan asked.
“God alone knows,” Alex said.
Chapter Six
M/T Phoenix Lynx
At anchor
Harardheere, Somalia
“How many did we lose?” Zahra asked, leaning on the bridge-wing rail as he gazed at Luther Hurd in the distance.
“Four holders from here onboard,” Omar replied, “including Gaal.” He shifted the ball of khat to his other cheek and spit over the side, as if the American’s name left a bad taste in his mouth. “Not that it’s a great loss. He wasn’t even a competent cook’s helper. I can’t imagine how he thought he could be an interpreter.”
“And from our core group ashore?”
Omar hesitated. “That’s more troubling. Five more holders—”
“Forget the holders! Any fool can be a holder,” Zahra said. “Did we lose any attackers?”
Omar nodded. “Three.”
Zahra stifled a curse and looked out over the anchorage dotted with captive vessels. He said nothing for a long moment, then shifted his gaze farther seaward, at the two American warships and those of half a dozen other countries, all drawn here by the presence of the Luther Hurd. He turned back to Omar.
“What’re they doing, Omar? Al-Shabaab is full of fanatics, but they’re not fools. Why, after months of declaring our business haram, have they decided to take it up themselves?”
“I don’t know,” Omar said. “But they’ve been recruiting for over a week now, and not the standard ‘join the jihad and earn a place in Paradise,’ either. They’re promising holders twice the going rate and offering four times the going rate for attackers. In both cases, with half as cash in advance.” He shook his head. “We can’t compete with that. All the groups are losing men to them. Clan loyalty is keeping most groups together, but everyone has some men without strong clan ties, and they’re flocking to the al-Shabaab operation.”
“But that’s just it,” Zahra said. “There is no ‘al-Shabaab operation.’ They’ve captured one American ship, murdered crewmen, and drawn half the warships in the region to our doorstep. That isn’t an ‘operation.’ It’s insanity.”
Omar hesitated. “There’s more, I’m afraid.”
Zahra sighed. “You’re full of good news this morning. What is it?”
“Something strange is going on with negotiations. I was surprised when the initial counter on Phoenix Lynx was so low, but thought it a negotiating tactic. But I’ve been talking to interpreters for the other groups, and now I’m not so sure. They all tell me that their negotiations have slowed. In fact, one group was within days of finalizing a ransom amount and the ship owner and insurer suddenly raised objections to the terms of the deal. Terms agreed weeks before. It seems like a concerted effort to stall. What’s it mean?”
Zahra glared out across the water at the Luther Hurd. “It means the fanatics have complicated our lives, and that negotiations will be more difficult.” He sighed. “We must become more aggressive, both in pressing our ransom demands and acquiring more hostages to enhance our bargaining position. It will be best if we can coordinate our efforts and move quickly. I will contact the other leaders.”
He shifted his gaze to the warships. “Perhaps, in a strange way, the fanatics have done us a favor. The more warships that collect here, the more freely we can operate out of the other ports and at sea. And Omar, find out more of the fanatics’ plans. Pick out one of our most loyal men to defect to al-Shabaab.” He turned and smiled. “Tell him he can take the fanatics’ money, but not to forget where his loyalty lies.”
M/T Luther Hurd
At anchor
Harardheere, Somalia
Mukhtar stood beside Diriyi on the bridge wing of the Luther Hurd, staring across the water at the Phoenix Lynx, three miles away.
“You were right, my brother,” Diriyi said, as he gazed in the opposite direction, seaward toward the line of warships. “More arrive every day. But how can you be sure they won’t attack?”
“On the contrary,” Mukhtar said. “I’m quite sure they will, but not immediately. The killings make them wary, and as long as we don’t force their hands with more executions, they’ll talk.” He smiled. “The Americans like to show the world how reasonable they are before they murder the faithful. They’ll talk and talk, and meanwhile, their Navy SEALs will find a sister ship and familiarize themselves with every detail. Then they’ll build a mockup and plan the attack meticulously, and count themselves very clever to have bought the time to do so. And Inshallah, by the time they attack it’ll make no difference.” He placed a hand on Diriyi’s shoulder. “I’m counting on you to buy me at least two weeks—four would be better. But if you sense attack is imminent, kill as many of the hostages as you can, then save yourself. Go ashore on some pretext and leave our new recruits to face the Americans’ wrath.”
“As you order,” Diriyi said. “I think my job is less difficult than yours. Are you sure our other recruits can be relied upon?”
Mukhtar shrugged. “They’re motivated by dreams of wealth, which will buy their loyalty as long as needed. Besides, we’ve no choice. The faithful are few, and none of us have experience attacking ships. It made little difference with this one, because we got aboard and attacked by surprise in the middle of the night. But our next attack will be very different.” He paused. “Which brings me to my next question. How’s recruitment going?”
“We’re almost ready. I’ve screened twenty experienced attackers, including two first-boarders, and begun to send them north to Eyl in twos and threes to avoid arousing the infidels’ suspicions. Their satellites and drones are snooping everywhere.”
“Good, good,” Mukhtar said. “Holders?”
Diriyi snorted. “Holders we can have without number at the wages we’re promising. Each day brings another boatload. I’m going to start turning them away.”
“No. Bring them aboard and arm them to the teeth. The more armed men the Americans see aboard, the longer they’ll delay and plan.”
“All right,” he said. “A few more then, but remember, every man aboard means more food and khat we must bring from shore. And with nothing to do, the men quarrel.” Diriyi sighed. “I think I’d prefer to face death at your side than manage this pack of greedy and unruly children.”
“And I’d prefer to have you there, my brother,” Mukhtar said. “But none of the other faithful has enough English to deal with the Americans.”
“Which reminds me. The boat this morning brought our runaway American back to us. I suppose the promise of cash was more alluring than faith.”
“Gaal? Do you trust him?”
Diriyi shrugged. “He’s a fool, like all these American jihadists. They all c
ome impressed with their own sacrifice, and most are so squeamish they faint at the sight of a little blood. And then they expect us to make them leaders. “ Diriyi spit over the side. “I didn’t trust him before he deserted us, and I trust him even less now. I have him under guard, but it just occurred to me that his language skills might be useful.”
Mukhtar stroked his chin. “You may be right, and even if you’re wrong, he’s expendable. But he’s an unknown. We must test him somehow.”
“But how?” Diriyi asked.
Mukhtar smiled. “I have an idea. Bring Gaal to the captain’s office. And have someone bring up the woman.”
Gaal’s mind raced as, hands bound behind him, he was half dragged up the stairs toward an upper deck. At D-deck, he was tugged into the passageway and hustled toward the captain’s office. He tensed involuntarily as Diriyi released his arm and pushed him through the open door.
Mukhtar stood in the middle of the room, and kneeling before him was a slight figure, head concealed by a pillowcase. The kneeling figure was dressed in the khakis of a ship’s officer, and the diminutive frame and body shape left no doubt the captive was female.
“Ah, Gaal. You’ve come back,” Mukhtar said in Somali. “So you find the promise of cash more alluring than that of Paradise.”
“A believer may serve Allah in many ways, Mukhtar. I wish only to use the skills I’ve acquired in His service.”
Beside him, Diriyi scoffed. “From the others who arrived with him, it seems his most recently acquired skill is gutting goats.”
Mukhtar smiled at Gaal. “Not a skill in short supply, I’m afraid, but still, you may be of some use. Of course, given both your background and your recent betrayal, your loyalty is very much in doubt. As I’m sure you understand, we will require some proof of your renewed commitment.”
Gaal nodded, but said nothing.
Mukhtar inclined his head toward the kneeling woman as he drew a Glock from his belt. “This whore is one of your former countrymen. I want you to kill her.” He paused, as if he just remembered something. “Ah. But what am I thinking? We must watch her face while you do it.” Mukhtar ripped the pillowcase off the woman’s head.
Deadly Coast (A Tom Dugan Novel) Page 5
