S.E.A.R.Ch

by Harrison Davies

  ‘Location?’ Inquired the Major.

  ‘Harbored at Woolsey.’

  ‘Woolsey, eh? Do you have a reliable source for your information?’

  ‘Pretty much, yes.’

  The policeman relayed the story from the bar. When Martin had finished, there was a brief pause before the Major spoke.

  ‘I’m a bit skeptical, but we have to check it out anyway. Find out as much as you can about this vessel, docking permits, etc., and secure fax the details to me at ACI. I’ll get things rolling this end. Winters has the number.’

  ‘What are you planning to do?’ Martin asked.

  ‘What we always do. Have a look-see. We’ll be able to judge better what to do next after that. Oh, and until my team properly investigates this, I want no involvement from you.’

  ‘Understood. Rest assured, I will not stick my nose where it’s not wanted,’ Martin lied.

  The Major replaced the handset without saying goodbye. He moved out of his makeshift office and headed to the lab’s briefing room, where four Special Forces troopers were waiting. One of the men was busy cleaning his Glock, another, his M16. The other two were having a mock wrestling match.

  ‘Roberts?’ asked Foster.

  ‘Yes?’ said a thickset man who stepped forward.

  ‘I need you to collect a secure transmission that’s due in the main office soon. It contains information on the location of our hostage. A cargo vessel if you can believe it. Parker? When the data arrives, I want to know the radio frequency the target is broadcasting on. If it’s not in the details, call the shipping office in Lewistown and find out. I’m going to speak to the boss to try and get Navy assistance. We’re going to have to get an Observation Post set up near this ship. Watts? I need you to coordinate with Roberts, see if you can come up with a plan of approach, according to the plans. I’ll get some Intel boys down here. Curly? Check all equipment; make sure you get anything we need to be shipped in ASAP. Anything you need, let me know. Right, any questions?’

  ‘Just one thing. Why do I always get stuck with the equipment check?’ Curly asked.

  ‘Because you’re crud at everything else,’ Foster winked.

  The whole team burst into laughter, and one by one slapped Curly on the back.

  The team spent time preparing what information they had. They knew the target was a cargo vessel anchored in Woolsey Harbor, so they planned around the situation.

  Each man contributed ideas for the best plan of attack as soon as their tasks were complete. As a troop, they had trained for every eventuality and tactic in almost every conceivable type of vehicle and building. A cargo vessel was one they hadn’t specifically trained on, but it wasn’t too far removed from an oil tanker.

  ‘I reckon we’re gonna need more boys down here. She’s a big ship for four of us to take,’ Watts mused, poring over the plans of The Natrushkin.

  ‘Yeah, I think so. Okay, if we split into say, three teams of four, that should cover high, middle and low ground,’ Curly added.

  Roberts sighed. ‘It’s a damned shame we don’t have a ship near enough to practice on; it’s been about two years since I stepped on one.’

  ‘We’re just gonna have to prep each stage from the plans we have. We’ll assign a deck or decks to each team, and do it like we were clearing a house, room by room. Obviously, we’ll have to cut power at some stage. So we need to know how to do that.’ Parker commented.

  *

  ‘Equipment checks out. We have everything we should need. If anything is missing, it’s hard luck,’ Curly announced some time later.

  ‘Good. How’s the job panning out, Roberts?’ Foster asked.

  ‘I’m just waiting for another set of plans for the lower decks. They should arrive anytime soon. When do the Intel boys arrive?’

  ‘Soon I hope.’

  ‘While you’re at it, can we get another eight guys down here? This ship’s too damned big for four of us alone. We’ve planned for three, four-man teams.’

  ‘I’ll get onto that straight away.’

  Foster read from a few slips of paper. ‘Right guys. An update from the boss. A destroyer has been commissioned. She was on her way to another job, but she’s heading into Woolsey Harbor. They’ve had Intel monitoring communications and things are highly suspicious. Men on the ground have spotted armed men patrolling above decks. Apparently, time is critical. They believe the target is indeed The Natrushkin. Our priority here is to confirm that the Professor is aboard the ship and rescue him, and any other hostages. Things may change as and when information is updated, so be ready to act accordingly. We now know the identity of the group behind the kidnapping. A former General of the Valenskian Militia, Ivor Ribiski, alias ‘Scorpio’. He’s ruthless and will stop at nothing to achieve his goals. They call him Scorpio because he has a sting like a scorpion; very deadly.’

  Foster paused to hand out a photograph of the man himself. ‘He disappeared two years ago, but recently British Intelligence, MI5 has gained information that he was building an army, The Peoples Militia for World Peace. PMWP for short. More details should be coming through soon. I’ve just learnt they’ve contacted ACI and demanded One Hundred Million Dollars for the release of the hostages. Release is highly unlikely to happen. According to this, it says that they have a very important piece of technology in their hands. It’s a laptop containing highly sensitive material. Intel reckons it’s a front to hide their real intentions. The D.o.D. wants the head of the scientist for taking his work outside of ACI,’ Foster finished.

  ‘You mean we’re really off to rescue a laptop?’ Parker asked.

  ‘Well that and the scientist,’ Foster replied. ‘We’re to rendezvous with the Navy and set up a Forward Operations Base there. Any questions? No? Pack up and let’s go.’

  Each man set about packing their equipment into carryalls, one for weapons, another for their attire. This done, they began loading a dark Range Rover which was parked in the lab’s secure car park.

  Along with their carryalls, they packed a number of crates containing radio equipment and dinghies, which would get them close to the ship.

  ‘It’s gonna be a bit cramped,’ Curly laughed.

  ‘What’s new?’ grinned Roberts. ‘Why we can’t go back to using the Dodge, I don’t know.’

  ‘Not as maneuverable, at least that’s what I was told. I suppose it could be right, with the weight difference an’ all,’ Curly offered.

  ‘Well Foster’s travelling on the roof this time,’ Roberts quipped.

  The other two men returning laughed out loud. It was a running joke among the team that one day someone would have to ride on the roof because of the amount of equipment they carried.

  ‘That’s it, all equipment checked and accounted for. Better let the old man know,’ Curly said with a grin.

  ‘If he catches you calling him old man, he’ll string you up,’ Roberts said. Nevertheless, they couldn’t help smiling as they returned to the briefing room.

  ‘Right, we have been given full D.o.D. approval for the operation. Remember we are going in blind, and we don’t know what to expect.

  ‘The Navy has a ship at a discreet distance, should we need assistance. But as for Intel, there’s not much they can tell us,’ Foster informed his team. ‘We have a helicopter waiting for us at Redfield Air Force base. We will rendezvous with our Navy ship and work from there. Ok, make sure that this place is clean, no evidence that we’ve been here. Then we ship out. Any questions?’

  ‘Just the one. What time are we due to execute the job?’ Roberts asked.

  ‘Oh four hundred this morning is the latest estimate. We’re expecting any guards that may be watching the hostages to be quite sleepy, so not alert,’ Foster replied.

  ‘Plenty of time for a siesta then,’ Roberts smiled.

  After the briefing had concluded, the team made sure that no evidence of their presence was remaining, and then set out for the Range Rover.

  *

  Martin, ign
oring direct orders, had beaten Foster and his men to the site. He had sent Frank back to Hopewell and travelled down the river to Woolsey. He hired a small boat and had moved as close to the cargo vessel as he dared. Dropping anchor, he waited for signs of life from the ship.

  He had come prepared; food and binoculars were at his side. Martin reasoned that he wasn’t interfering with the Major’s investigation, merely observing.

  ‘I might see something that could be valuable,’ he reasoned as he watched a Navy ship silently slink into the harbor.

  *

  ‘How are the repairs coming along?’ Scorpio asked a mechanic who was working on a helicopter inside the cargo vessel’s huge, converted payload bay.

  ‘Just fine, Sir. Maybe another three or four hours and it should be ready. That damned electrical storm took out some of the primary circuits. I want to make sure that -.’

  The mechanic was interrupted mid-sentence by a tall, thin set man who had come running over to the two.

  ‘General? I think we have company. Lookouts report a suspicious vessel off the port side.’

  ‘What sort of vessel?’ Scorpio demanded, briskly walking away from the helicopter and heading towards the bridge.

  ‘It’s just a small boat, Sir. But whoever’s in it has been doing a little spying through binoculars. There is one more thing. A Navy destroyer has arrived and is anchored at the other side of the harbor.’

  Scorpio reached into his breast pocket of his uniform and pulled out a small two-way radio. ‘This is Scorpio,’ he said into it. ‘This is a ship-wide alert. No personnel are allowed on deck. All personnel are to remain inside until last light. We may have unwelcome visitors. Captain, get this heap of junk ready to move on my order. I want a visual of that boat when I arrive on the bridge.’

  *

  Martin had started to feel the cold, so he grabbed a warm padded jacket from a locker and proceeded to put it on. Suddenly he had the sense that someone was watching him. He whirled around to find himself face to face with a pistol pointed directly at him.

  ‘Is there anyone else on board?’ the whispered voice of a woman said.

  ‘N ... no!’ Martin stuttered, more out of surprise than a shock. Being a policeman, he got to see all sorts of things, and guns were one of them, after all, he carried one.

  ‘There had better not be,’ the woman warned. She raised the weapon and struck Martin across the side of the head, knocking him out cold.

  ‘Was there any need to go that far?’ Karl said, looking through the cabin door, dressed in a wetsuit.

  ‘He smelled like a cop,’ Tara announced. ‘Help me get him into the dinghy. Then you can start scuttling this thing.’

  Karl and Tara lifted the heavy policeman by his arms and legs and struggled as they dragged him out of the vessel’s small cabin.

  ‘Christ, he’s heavy isn’t he?’ Karl complained, as he puffed and panted under the weight.

  ‘Oh quit your complaining. You’re such a girl,’ Tara scorned.

  Karl gave her a glowering stare, but knowing her temper, continued carrying the man across the boat’s slippery deck. Heaving the big man into the dinghy was no easy task, and he very nearly pushed Tara into the freezing seawater.

  Tara moved to the bow of the dinghy, opened a small locker, and produced an axe, which she handed to Karl. ‘Now go and do your stuff,’ she said.

  Karl scrambled back onto the deck of the boat and entered the cabin. As Tara busied herself tying Martin up, she could hear Karl hacking away at the keel of the boat with his axe. She smiled to herself when she heard him whistling to himself.

  Presently, Karl, sweating profusely, skidded out of the cabin and jumped back into the dinghy, upsetting the motion.

  ‘All done.’ He smiled. Nothing pleased him more than destroying things.

  Tara maneuvered the small dinghy away from the boat, which was by now listing in the water. They watched as it slowly sank to its watery resting place.

  Satisfied, Tara revved the dinghy’s engines, pulled away and headed back to the ship.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The drive to Redfield Airforce Base had been quite uneventful and Curly managed to get his head down for a while.

  As promised, a civilian helicopter was waiting for them on the helipad. The dark rescue craft was barely visible in the blackness of the night, that was until the helipad lights came on, and the five Special Forces men and their equipment were safely aboard. It was thought that a civilian craft would attract less attention than an army vehicle.

  The helicopter took off and streaked through the night toward Woolsey Harbor.

  The team in the chopper had to shout to be heard above the sound of the rotor blades; there were not enough headsets to go around. They were discussing their most recent active service assignment in the Middle East. Since then, all five had constantly been training and hadn’t seen action.

  ‘What if I get seasick?’ Curly commented.

  ‘Then do it quietly over the side. But don’t vomit inside your respirator,’ Foster laughed.

  ‘Have you ever tried vomiting quietly?’ Roberts chimed in, and then made the familiar retching sound.

  ‘Quit it,’ Curly said. ‘Ships have never been my favorite things.’

  ‘Well, we can see why the Navy didn’t want you, Maria,’ Foster joked.

  ‘My grandfather was a Navy Captain during the war. I obviously don’t get my sea legs from him.’

  ‘Listen, just concentrate on the job. The adrenaline will be flowing, so you won’t have time to think about the ship going up and down and up and down -’ Roberts teased.

  Curly gave his colleague a friendly blow to the midriff.

  Roberts changed the subject. ‘I’ve got a joke for you, heard it the other day. A large group of enemy soldiers is moving down a road when they hear a voice call from behind a sand-dune. One S.A.S. soldier is better than ten of your men. The enemy commander quickly sends ten of his best soldiers over the dune. A gun-battle breaks out and continues for a few minutes; then there’s silence. The voice then calls out; One S.A.S. soldier is better than one hundred of your men. Furious, the enemy Commander sends his next best one hundred troops over the dune, and instantly a huge gunfight starts. After ten minutes of battle, again there’s silence. The voice calls out again; One S.A.S. soldier is better than one thousand of your men. The enraged Commander musters one thousand fighters and sends them across the dune. Cannon, rocket and machine gun fire ring out as a huge battle is fought. Then there’s silence. Eventually, one wounded enemy fighter crawls back over the dune and with his dying words tells his commander: Don't send any more men, it’s a trap, there’s actually two of them.’

  Everyone burst into fits of laughter.

  The pilot caught Foster's attention. ‘There’s a message incoming for you.’

  ‘Switch to a secure channel.’

  The pilot flicked a switch and gave him the nod.

  ‘This is Foster, go ahead. Yes, okay, no problem. Foster out.’ He gave the pilot the all clear. ‘When you drop us off you’ll have to return to the airfield and pick up another eight guys.’

  The pilot nodded and silently wondered how he was to fit that many in his craft.

  Foster turned his head and shouted back to the team. ‘The boss is sending the two extra teams.’

  The helicopter moved into land and slowly and gently touched down on a deserted field just outside of Woolsey, the tires skidding on the wet grass. A Range Rover was waiting for them as they unloaded the cargo, and within minutes they had loaded up and sped to the harbor. As they approached the target, the lights of the vehicle were switched off, and carefully they picked their way down a steep slip road leading to a small beach cove. Eventually, they coasted to a stop at the water’s edge. They again unloaded and carried everything to waiting inflatables behind a jetty that provided cover.

  The team boarded the dinghies in double quick time and paddled as silently as they could to where the Navy ship lay in wait. H
idden out of view of the target vessel, they and the cargo were brought slowly aboard the destroyer.

  ‘Okay guys, get this equipment stowed ASAP. There should be someone here to show us where to go. Here they come now,’ Foster announced, as he saw a shadowy figure approaching them, ‘Let’s show the Navy how it’s done.’

  ‘Major Foster? Lieutenant Williams. Sir, I have been instructed to escort you to the briefing room. Someone will be along directly to escort your men to their quarters.’ The young Lieutenant saluted.

  ‘Lead the way,’ Foster replied, damning the man for saluting him. None of the team actively saluted him while on a job; it was an instant giveaway as to who was in charge.

  As Foster was led away, Curly turned to his comrades. ‘Hey, it’s not as bad as I thought. I can hardly feel the ship moving.’

  ‘That’s because there’s no big waves in the bay. Wait till we get out to sea.’ Watts smirked knowingly.

  The other team had visible smirks on their faces as they lugged bags towards a tall, muscular sailor who had arrived on the scene. He was a comical sight, his shirt almost splitting apart at the buttons as he moved, his muscles bulging.

  ‘Hi guys,’ he said in a broad New York accent. ‘I’m to take you to the gym. This way.’

  The team followed the tall man as he took them on a winding tour of the ship, Watts cursing as he caught his shin on a bulkhead as they descended a flight of steps.

  ‘Hope you guys know your way back,’ the New Yorker chuckled. ‘She’s a maze.’

  ‘No problem,’ Roberts replied. ‘Photographic memory.’ He tapped his forehead with a finger to clarify the fact.

  ‘Good, good. This is you; cots have been laid out for you. Make yourself at home.’