Domination Bid

by Don Pendleton

  Hawkins frowned but couldn’t say he blamed the boss. Madari’s seeming ability to outwit them at every turn had bothered McCarter, a lot more than he would have ever admitted to his teammates, and his nerves had just about reached the fraying point. Were it anyone else but David McCarter, Hawkins might have worried about continued effective leadership under the circumstances, but the former SAS veteran was a rock-solid combatant and a pro all the way. He’d be all right.

  The trio came into view and McCarter immediately tossed them a salute as they descended the steps from the starboard walkway to the main deck. They fanned out as their training had dictated time and again, muzzles sweeping the deck and ready for any threat that might emerge. Hawkins kept one eye on their activity and the other on the prisoners.

  Finally, no longer able to contain his curiosity, he directed his voice at Encizo. “Well, is that it?”

  “Yeah,” Encizo said, flipping his goggles up so he could scrutinize the panel in greater detail. “Yeah…I think this is it.”

  “Bingo,” Hawkins replied.

  “Easy. It ain’t over yet.”

  “Hey, I don’t get much joy in this life. Don’t take what I got.”

  This drew a chuckle from Encizo. “Okay, pal—okay.”

  * * *

  AS SOON AS they cleared the perimeter, McCarter pointed at the door Hawkins had indicated before. James tossed a salute and moved alongside it while Manning approached at the opposite side. McCarter got into position at about a thirty-degree angle to James and then gestured for Manning to open it as he shoved back his NVGs.

  McCarter pushed through as soon as Manning got it open. The corridor was lit fairly well, just as McCarter had suspected it might be. He was glad he’d used foresight to disengage his goggles and avoid being temporarily blinded by the lights. McCarter brought his MP-5 into play as he saw movement at the other end, but he realized it was unarmed crew members and they were in nothing but modes of half-dress. Apparently they’d been bunked down when the assault began.

  Before he could decide what to do, the sudden rumble of an explosion and the rattle of the decking beneath his feet caused him to duck involuntarily. The explosion was followed by a second, this one more pronounced, a heartbeat later.

  “What the hell was that?” James inquired, shouting to be heard over the sounds of a restless Mediterranean.

  Manning swore under his breath. “I think somebody just blew the engine. Those sounded like ordnance—most probably grenades. Did you feel the shift in our speed? We’re slowing very quickly.”

  McCarter felt his heart leap into his throat. “If they blew the engines then we might also be—”

  “Taking on water!” James finished.

  McCarter spit a few curses before keying up his transmitter. “Leader to Eagle One.”

  Grimaldi’s voice rang in the headsets of the entire Phoenix Force team a moment later. “Go, Leader.”

  “Emergency evac. I say again, bring her in for emergency evac. Somebody blew the engines and we may be sinking.”

  “Copy, Leader. We’re on our way.”

  McCarter switched to tactical frequency. “Clear the channel. We’re burned, mates! Abandon ship!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  There were two things that went through McCarter’s mind as he and his teammates made for the back of the yacht where Grimaldi would pick them up.

  The first was how much time they had to get off the yacht before it started taking on water. The second was how to evacuate the remaining passengers. It might have contented some men to let the crewmembers drown but that wasn’t McCarter’s style—it sure as hell wasn’t something of which his colleagues and friends would approve. And McCarter wasn’t a murderer or a heartless killer. He killed out of loyalty and duty, and then only as a last resort.

  These men, while they had resisted Phoenix Force, were mostly operating under orders and it wouldn’t serve any purpose to leave them to the terror of the depths. No. He was the mission commander and it was his responsibility to make sure they got off safely. The problem he had was that they couldn’t operate the two choppers that close together. Just not safe in this wind and given the choppy waters, the turbulence of which was increasing by the minute.

  McCarter slapped Encizo’s arm as he ran past and shouted to be heard. “Rafe! I need you to make sure the rest of the team gets aboard the chopper.”

  “What the hell you talking about?”

  “The crew—” he pointed toward the survivors who were now cloistered together near the stern and looking a bit dumbstruck “—needs someone to evacuate them.”

  Encizo shook his head. “No dice, David! I’ll stay behind and get them out. I have more experience.”

  “My mission, my call. Damn it, Rafe, that’s an order! Now go!”

  McCarter shoved Encizo astern and the Cuban didn’t resist. He didn’t like McCarter’s decision but he knew the Phoenix Force leader was correct. It was his prerogative to make it right, and his first duty was to obey orders irrespective of what it might cost them. There was nothing unethical or illegal about McCarter’s command, and so Encizo knew the best thing he could do was to obey it.

  Even as he made his way toward the stern where the six survivors stood, McCarter figured the situation to be pretty grave. It would take at least eight minutes for his teammates to get aboard that chopper. Grimaldi would have to hold position above a yacht on an ever-more-turbulent Mediterranean. Each warrior would have to ascend a sixty-foot rescue ladder in full gear at an average of two minutes per man. On top of all that, the other chopper couldn’t get close enough to take those off the stern for safety reasons. A sinking boat in waters this rough could shift and spin around in very unpredictable fashions, and to put the two Seahawks in proximity under such conditions wasn’t just unsafe, it was plain stupid.

  McCarter reached the others and shouted, “Any of you speak English?”

  One of the men raised his hand.

  “You got lifeboats?”

  The man nodded and pointed to the port side.

  McCarter gestured for him to lead the way and indicated the others should follow. True to his predictions, the boat suddenly shifted and tossed nearly all of them prone to the deck. Only one man remained standing, obviously having better sea legs than the rest. McCarter quickly gained his feet. He felt pain in the middle finger of his left hand and realized he’d broken it when it got pinned between his weapon and the deck. McCarter cursed and then unslung the MP-5 and tossed it over the side. No point in carrying any more than necessary—he still had his pistol in case one or more of the sailors thought to seize an advantage. McCarter shed his backpack, as well, and then directed the men to lower the lifeboat.

  McCarter took notice of another boat toward the port side astern but he didn’t think it a wise idea. Powerboats of that kind were okay on calmer waters but they could be death traps in this rolling sea and he had no idea if it even had enough fuel. It didn’t look like a standard attachment, anyway. Plus, the lifeboats were equipped with life preservers that were visible after they had removed the tarps. Most importantly, this crew had obviously been drilled well; they were deploying the boat like clockwork, so he’d at least have a crew familiar with its capabilities and operation.

  McCarter hesitated when the man who spoke English dropped the boat and then ordered him over the side, but McCarter realized in that moment this must have been one of the officers aboard the yacht. McCarter didn’t think him the captain but he did realize that the guy felt it necessary to ensure the rest of them were on the boat before he felt comfortable abandoning ship. McCarter looked over the side and saw the others were already descending the ladder so he nodded at the man and then followed suit.

  When his feet touched bottom he looked up and waited but he didn’t see the man—not even a silhouette or movement
. He heard the guy shout something in what sounded like Greek and then he realized the crewmembers were moving the boat away from the yacht. McCarter started yelling at them but they ignored him. Even when the Phoenix Force leader yanked his pistol from its holster he realized the futility of it. Yeah, the guy had been some sort of officer and he’d elected to go down with his ship.

  McCarter couldn’t understand it but he could respect it, and as they moved out from the yacht he saw the faint outline of the man who had chosen to stay behind. He knew the guy probably couldn’t see it but McCarter tossed him a salute. It was in that moment he realized the guy had chosen to sacrifice his own life, maybe in an attempt to save the vessel and maybe because he’d seen McCarter wasn’t going to leave them behind to just drown. Whatever the guy’s reason, it left McCarter with an almost unexplainable sense of emptiness.

  When they were well clear of the ship, McCarter saw the first vestiges of the damage. The explosive blasts had weakened the structure enough to cause damage. Fires within the superstructure of the yacht were now starting to cut through the hull. McCarter noted also that the stern of the ship had begun to dip ever so slightly and he knew before too long the ship would begin to capsize before it nosed hard down with its ass coming straight up.

  Whoever had sabotaged the yacht had known what he was doing. McCarter couldn’t help but wonder, but only a moment, if it hadn’t been Madari. He quickly dismissed the thought. The guy didn’t have that kind of honor. There had only been one of those EMP prototypes aboard that vessel and Madari had claimed to have more than that. Given the size of the lab at his island bunker and other intelligence to that point, McCarter couldn’t believe Madari had been on the yacht.

  No, the bastard was still alive and McCarter was certain he knew exactly where he was headed. They needed to get out of this theater as quickly as possible and get back to the States. And he needed to report to Stony Man their findings here and exactly what they had encountered. McCarter’s earbud signaled for attention.

  “Go ahead!” he shouted.

  “You okay, Leader One?”

  “Wet and cold, mate,” he replied. “But I’ll live.”

  “Stand by,” Grimaldi said. “We have you on IFR and the second chopper’s moving in to extract you. And you might want to hurry because we’ve been informed by the Resolute we may soon have some company.”

  McCarter pressed his lips together in puzzlement. Then he asked, “Company from whom, Eagle One?”

  * * *

  “LIBYAN AIR FORCE?” Captain Samuel Garth shook his head. “What the hell are you talking about, Number One?”

  “That’s what they say, sir. Claim our choppers have entered Libyan air space and they’re warning us off.”

  “Tell them we’re in the middle of—” he shook his head “—never mind, give me the phone.”

  Jankovich handed it to him and Garth said immediately, “This is American destroyer USS Resolute, Captain Garth commanding. To whom am I speaking?”

  “This is Colonel Ahmed al-Yunis, Libyan Air Force.”

  “Sir, I understand you’ve threatened to dispatch aircraft to deter our aircraft you claim to be within your airspace.”

  “I don’t claim them to be in my airspace, Captain,” al-Yunis replied. “They are in our airspace. The observed airspace of my country is twelve nautical miles, and your aircraft are at nine miles. That’s three miles inside the acceptable zone and they have failed to answer our calls of warning. I can only assume—”

  “I beg your pardon, Colonel, but you can’t assume anything. If your systems have picked them up then you must also realize there’s a yacht there in distress, a yacht belonging to a citizen of Greece. We were asked to assist in their rescue.”

  “We know all about the yacht, Captain.”

  “You do?”

  “That’s correct. They sent a distress call to us more than two hours ago advising that they were experiencing trouble with one of their engines and requesting permission to dock at Derna. We granted that permission and once they entered Libyan waters they became our responsibility. So it is you who are interfering in this incident.”

  “We’ve been advised the ship is taking on water, sir,” Garth said. “We were very close and heard their distress call so I sent two choppers to evacuate the crew.”

  Garth was mindful to maintain tact and diplomatic communications at all times, as well as to observe military courtesies. Technically, the colonel outranked him and it wouldn’t do to say anything that could be misconstrued as disrespectful. Despite the fact he had tremendous authority and power at his disposal, Garth knew the call was being recorded and he knew the Libyans would also be recording.

  Garth continued. “With all due respect, Colonel—”

  “Captain, we have repeatedly warned your craft to cease and desist whatever they are doing and to leave our boundaries immediately. They have chosen not to reply to us, and so I’m left with no choice but assume their intent is hostile.”

  Something clutched at Garth’s stomach but he did his best to ignore it. He wanted to engage this pompous ass with a scathing retort but he didn’t dare. The President had not authorized him to create an international incident, only to get their mission accomplished at whatever cost. He was about to render more excuses, stalling the man for time, when Jankovich hissed at him.

  “What?” Garth asked a little more forcefully than he’d intended.

  “It’s the mission leader, sir,” Jankovich said. “He says they are clear and returning at best possible speed.”

  Garth nodded, raised a fist high in a sign of victory and then returned his attention to al-Yunis. “Colonel, there’s obviously been some sort of mix-up here. But let me assure you our intentions are non-hostile toward Libya or any other foreign powers. I have, in fact, recalled the choppers. You are free to take whatever action you choose.”

  “You will order those aircraft to remain where they are and be prepared to receive Libyan military investigators.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Colonel al-Yunis.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because they’ve already left your airspace, just as you requested, and are now in international waters. You have no jurisdiction at this point.”

  “Are you tempting me to use force?” al-Yunis demanded, the apoplexy in his tone nearly palpable.

  “I’m doing nothing of the kind, sir,” Garth replied. “But let me be very clear when I say that those aircraft and the men aboard them are members of the United States Navy and they are now flying under the international waters protected by NATO treaty. Therefore, any attempt to shoot down or deter those craft while in said airspace will be considered a hostile act and I am authorized to respond with the fullest force at my disposal to neutralize any such act. Am I being clear?”

  A long, almost toxic silence followed but al-Yunis finally muttered an acknowledgment in the affirmative before disconnecting the call.

  * * *

  AFTER TURNING THE crew over to the SPs for holding until they could be debriefed, and delivering a short verbal report to Garth and Jankovich, Phoenix Force assembled in a temporary and isolated area aboard the ship set aside for their privacy. They had bunks, hot chow and showers at their disposal—leaving each man on the team with a new appreciation for U.S. naval hospitality.

  “You know, this reminds of—” Hawkins began.

  “Save it for your blog, Hawk,” James cut in cheerily.

  Hawkins laughingly flipped him the bird. “What a buzz kill.”

  “All right, stifle the guffaws for just a bloody moment, won’t you?”

  They gave the Phoenix Force leader their undivided attention. “We a got a bit of time to rest up before we lift off.”

  “How long is a bit?” Manning asked.

  “About two hours, give or ta
ke. Jack’s advised he needs to do a full work-up on the helicopter we brought from Athens…refuel and so forth. As soon as I hear from him, we’ll be struts off here and headed back to our plane.”

  “Then home, sweet home?” Hawkins asked.

  “Yeah. But I don’t know how sweet it’s going to be. I just got off the horn with the Farm. They were disappointed that we couldn’t save the ship but understanding. Barb wanted me to personally let each of you know how glad she is we all came through this scrape alive.”

  “Score one for the good guys,” James said, licking his finger and swiping an imaginary one in the air.

  “Don’t celebrate yet, mate. We got a long haul back and once we arrive we’ll need to provide backup to Able Team.”

  “What’s the problem?” Encizo asked.

  “Seems that Madari’s still alive,” McCarter said. “And from every scrap of intelligence they’ve gathered at that end, Madari’s been in bed with Steinham the entire time.”

  “Steinham?” Manning shook his head. “You mean the defense guy who sent those Cyclops people after us?”

  “Exactly,” McCarter said. “Except it wasn’t us he sent Cyclops after, it was Stanish. Remember?”

  “Yeah, and let’s not forget she’s still in the wind,” Hawkins interjected.

  McCarter frowned. “Wrong. She’s dead.”

  “That confirmed?” Encizo asked.

  “About as confirmed as I think we’re going to get. I managed to talk to one of those crewmen we rescued through a Greek interpreter they had aboard. Seems she was the one who lit off the fuses on the yacht. She blew up the engines and he’s a hundred percent convinced she blew herself up with them.”

  “What the hell for?” James asked.

  McCarter shook his head with a sad expression. “I don’t bloody know, Cal. I guess she had some sort of thing going with Madari, or near as I could gather from sailor boy. She was brought aboard some time earlier yesterday afternoon. She and the captain got into a quarrel over something and she ended up shooting him, although apparently it sounds as if she did so in self-defense.”