“I just got off the phone with the Man,” Brognola said, taking a sip of the coffee followed by a bite from the sandwich. It was corned beef on rye, one of his favorites. “Mmm, this is great. Thanks.”
Around a mouthful of food, he continued. “Anyway, the President wants us to continue the mission. He asked us to pass on his congratulations to Phoenix Force. He also said it wouldn’t be too difficult to keep it quiet, given the remoteness of where it all happened.”
“Thank God for small favors,” Price replied.
“Really. What’s our next move?”
“Well, I understand that David’s already talked with Lyons, and Able Team’s proceeding based on the information David sent to them. Aaron estimates they’ll intercept the freighter somewhere near the Yucatán Peninsula.”
“Now that’s music to the ears,” Brognola replied. “What about the other freighter?”
“Phoenix Force is on their way.” She looked at the clock and added, “ETA about four hours. They think the target is a British port, but they can’t be sure which one yet. But by the time they catch up with the freighter, nearly every southern port in Great Britain would be within striking range.”
“Well, the prime minister of England has told the President that he’s not going to recall the blockade in the interest of their national security. However he did indicate he wouldn’t order the fleet to take action unless he felt the threat was imminent.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“I don’t know, but the President seemed to think it was a reprieve,” Brognola answered. “I get the feeling the political situation is shaky, but one thing they all seem to be able to agree on is that they would like to keep this as quiet as possible.”
“For now, at least,” Price said. “But if it doesn’t go right, you know they’ll all point the finger in our direction.”
Brognola shook his head. “I’d prefer we don’t concern ourselves with that right now. We’ve always done our best in the past to save the Oval Office any embarrassment, and the Man knows that. We’ll do whatever needs to be done. It’s business as usual, and I’ve told him as much. Now, where are you with my other little request?”
“Well, I did a thorough background check on Lusk.”
“And?”
Price shook her head. “I wish I could say there was something more ominous there, but you’ll probably understand when I say I’m glad I didn’t find anything extraordinary. No great mystery, in fact. After getting his MBA from Columbia University, he turned immediately to politics. He was first elected for the state legislature in California, his home state, and eventually was accepted for entry training with the CIA. He went on to Langley with a few additional courses at Quantico and then he spent a year on special assignment in Kuwait during the first Gulf war. Following that, he worked a desk in North Korea and spent a three-year stint in Afghanistan immediately following 9/11. As you know, the President picked him to head up this cabinet position when his first adviser chose to resign. The only murky part of his background centers around a year he spent at an undisclosed assignment station for the Company under the title of field operative. That’s information I couldn’t pull without someone getting suspicious and alerting him or the Oval Office.”
Brognola nodded. “To officially probe his service records while he was with the Company we would most likely need the Man’s permission. I don’t want him to know yet that I had us looking into Lusk’s background. The year he was incognito is an item of interest, but it doesn’t sound unusual for the CIA.”
“Agreed. To be honest, Hal, I think we’re barking up the wrong tree,” Price said.
“You’re probably right,” Brognola conceded. “Let’s drop that for now and focus on supporting Able Team and Phoenix Force. Where are we with their assignments?”
“Well, based on the details I managed to drag out of the Bear, I think Able Team will be first to reach their target.”
“Well, we’ve all done what we can here,” Brognola said. “Now it’s in the hands of our friends in the field. I think for now there’s little more we can do, so I’m going to suggest you get some rest. I don’t want to see you anywhere near here or the Annex for at least six hours. Is that clear?”
“Hal, I feel fine.”
“It’s not a request,” Brognola cut in sharply but quietly. Aaron finally caved in.
Price started to open her mouth again, almost as if she were going to argue some more, but then on afterthought she clammed up and smiled. She then rose, patted his arm and left the War Room.
Mouth of the Yucatán Channel
“I HAVE TARGET IN SIGHT,” Hermann Schwarz announced. “We’ll be on top of them in less than a minute. Did anybody realize that the water’s pretty cold this time of year?” Gadgets remarked.
“It’s the middle of the goddamn Caribbean Ocean, Wizard,” Lyons replied as he secured the pockets of his wetsuit. “It’s cold all year.”
“Not actually,” Schwarz replied.
“Spare me,” Lyons said. He raised a hand to emphasize that he didn’t want to hear all of the marine statistics quoted to him, especially since he was confident that Gadgets had every one of them tucked away in the sponge he called a brain.
Charlie Mott’s voice came through the loudspeaker. “You guys are clear. Good luck!”
“Equipment goes first!” Schwarz shouted, attempting to be heard over the screaming winds of the now-open door.
Mott had brought them in low and slow, keeping the King Air 350 just above stall speed. They would have only a few seconds to get out and clear. The plane wasn’t particularly designed for such airborne operations, especially given its speed. This would be much different from dropping out of a chopper, and Lyons knew even as he went out with their weapons and equipment that it was going to hurt like hell when he hit the water.
True to Schwarz’s predictions, the water was quite cold if the sensation of his testicles drawing up instantaneously inside his body was any indication. Still, the main thing was to ensure that the weapons didn’t get too far below the waterline, which hadn’t looked quite as choppy when he’d bailed out of the plane. He yanked the cord on the equipment bag and the air bladders inflated immediately, driving the bag to the surface before it could sink to the bottom of the sea and drag Lyons with it.
The Able Team leader watched as Schwarz hit the water within about twenty yards of his position. Just like Lyons, his head disappeared beneath the dark waters, and Lyons held his breath and waited to see that familiar face break the surface. It seemed to take an eternity, but it was really only a few seconds before his teammate came up and gave him the okay signal. The pair went through the same exercise in watching Blancanales come down and then surface.
“Eagle Two to Able One.” It was Charlie Mott over the radio. Lyons reached to his utility belt and keyed the waterproof receiver.
“Able One, here.”
“Coming back on the second pass,” Mott replied. “I’ll try to get her as close as I can.”
“Roger that. As soon as you’ve dumped the load, proceed to rendezvous point Bravo Two per instructions.”
“Acknowledged, Able One. Eagle Two’s out here.”
And that was the last communication they were to have with Mott until they met up with him again in Cancun. Their plan was simple. If they could take the freighter without incident, they would arrange to have it towed or steered into Puerto Juarez at the edge of the Yucatán Peninsula. If not…well, Lyons chose not to think about the alternatives. The bottom line was that the freighter had to be stopped at any cost, and that meant that Able Team was to do whatever it had to, to avert another civil disaster.
Lyons watched as the King Air 350 buzzed overhead and something large and square dropped from the plane. It struck the water hard and at about a midway point between Blancanales and Schwarz. Bless Charlie Mott’s big heart; the guy had damn near set the thing on top of them. While Lyons could have easily handled a swim of considerable dista
nce, water this cold had a tendency to sap the strength much sooner than under more moderate conditions. Either way, it didn’t matter because they would soon be visiting conditions that were a lot harder than some cold seawater.
Lyons began to glide toward the dropped equipment with long, smooth strokes, eventually catching Schwarz. All three of the Able Team warriors reached the massive, floating package at about the same time. Lyons quickly withdrew a Colt Combat Knife from his belt and cut through the straps.
“You want to step it up there, Ironman?” Blancanales called from the other side where he was performing similar measures. “I’m freezing my ass off.”
Through gritted teeth, Lyons replied, “In the words of someone we all know and love, ‘quit your bellyaching.’”
That shut Blancanales up.
The two men continued to work while Schwarz occupied himself with a compartment on the side of the package. Just prior to cutting the last packaging strap free, Lyons shouted a warning for all to clear away.
“Hold up one more second, partner,” Schwarz said. “I’m almost finished.”
“I’ve got a second, but I don’t know if the sharks do.”
Blancanales poked his head around the package. “Did you say sharks, Ironman?”
“Got it!” Schwarz declared, coming away with some little electronic trinket that Lyons was almost positive they probably could have lived without. “All right, Ironman, she’s all yours.”
Lyons ripped the knife through the last cord and the packaging fell away to expose the contents. Lyons immediately reached into the center and yanked a handle. Within a few seconds the contents fully inflated into a full-size assault raft, and buried within the center was a small, outboard motor easily powerful enough to propel the raft across the open water at a pretty good clip.
“All aboard who’re going aboard,” Blancanales announced, immediately reaching up and pulling his husky form into the craft.
Lyons followed and Schwarz was last in. The men quickly stripped off their wetsuits and dried their hair with a towel, then donned black stocking caps. It wouldn’t do for them to remain wet and suffer from hypothermia before they had even completed their mission.
As soon as they were dressed, the trio went about their assigned tasks. Lyons began the process of getting the engine mounted, primed and started while Schwarz hooked up their electronic tracking equipment and GPS satellite link. Blancanales cleared the weapons from the waterproof bags and got them ready for action. Each man knew exactly what he had to do and just how to do it. Within eight minutes they were moving over the water and headed for their target.
As they buzzed along the open water, Blancanales moved up close to Lyons so he could be heard above the loud motor. “Have you considered exactly how we’re going to approach this mission?”
Lyons shrugged, keeping his icy blue eyes focused on the water ahead. When they had landed they figured they were a good ten nautical miles from the freighter’s current location. It would take them a bit of time to get there.
“Not really,” he replied.
“So what are you planning to do then? Just make it up as you go?”
“I don’t know yet,” Lyons said. “But I’ll have a plan before we get there.”
“Well, I hope you don’t think the Qibla are just going to let us power up to the freighter, grapple a railing and climb aboard!”
“No,” Lyons replied with a wicked grin. “I’ve already taught them firsthand that approach doesn’t work!”
“Actually, that’s exactly what I was expecting us to do!” Schwarz offered, having now turned to face the other two men.
The pair looked at each other in amazement that Schwarz had actually been able to overhear their conversation with all the noise.
“And just how exactly do you suppose we do that?” Blancanales asked incredulously.
“Yes, please, do tell!” Lyons added.
“Well, one of the reasons I had to get that equipment out of that pack is because it’s part of my plan! The way you get on board without being seen is to give the terrorists something else to look at! And that’s exactly what I’m going to do!”
“And just how do you plan on doing that?”
“Well,” Schwarz began, obviously savoring the moment, “I knew the odds were pretty good this freighter was our target. I read the other day that the Playboy cruise ship just so happens to be coming out of Cancun today, headed for the Bahamas! According to its navigational records, it would have gone right past our target! Only trouble was, it was an hour too early by my calculations. So I sent a message through the computer relay to the Caribbean Port Authority that it was believed the ship might have a faulty boiler system and should probably be inspected by the Authority before being allowed to shove off. That delayed it long enough that we should be seeing it right about…now.”
He turned to look ahead of them and, sure enough, in the distance, the massive white outline of the cruise ship was becoming more distinct by the second. Lyons and Blancanales exchanged another series of bewildered looks, then stared at the back of their friend’s head. Schwarz pretended not to sense they were watching him, but Lyons knew better. If there was anything he knew about his friend, it was that he liked to gloat.
Finally, Schwarz turned and looked at them. “It was a long shot, but I figured it was worth a try. Nobody, and I mean nobody, can resist being distracted by a beautiful body. Not even a terrorist.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Mahmed Temez watched with disgust as a number of his men cheered at the massive cruise passenger liner rolling past, the tops of its decks littered with the bronzed skin of at least a hundred beautiful women. Temez wasn’t a eunuch, of course, as witnessed by the fact he’d fathered seven children. But he believed in the stories of the many virgins he would possess in Paradise, with the caveat that he keep himself pure from the women that would attempt to seduce him here on Earth.
Still, he couldn’t fault his men for having an appreciation. He was pure but he wasn’t blind, and he could tell even from here that these were women of extraordinary caliber, whom Allah had blessed and endowed with the loveliest of shapes. It wasn’t as if they really deserved such an honor. Their skin wasn’t naturally cured by the sun, as the women in his own country, and the fact they were emboldened enough to wave and show their faces—as well as other parts of their anatomy—to strange men only belied the falseness of their existence.
Well, he needed to relax and let his men enjoy what time remained, for in just a few short hours it would all be over.
Temez turned from the activities and strode to a hatchway that would take him into the bowels of the freighter. He hadn’t heard anything more from either the Thurayya or the Crescent, and his ship—he had named it the Fallujah in remembrance of his home town—was ready to fire at a moment’s notice and would be within position in a few hours.
The previous evening his men had used a special pressured system to load musrah into the warhead equipped with a dispersal charge. During the procedure, they had all been required to wear chemical suits to protect them in the event a hazardous spill or exposure accident occurred. Musrah was unforgiving, of this there was little doubt, and it would kill anyone. It didn’t know enemies from allies. It was at that time that Karif Bhati had told him of his idea for increasing the yield, and after further debate he finally relented and allowed the men to perform the needed modifications.
They were now confident that they would be able to expose approximately ten thousand Americans to musrah. Temez wished he could have been the one to take credit for the idea, but he believed that credit was due appropriately for individual accomplishment. He wasn’t the kind of leader to take credit for something done by one of his subordinates. There were moments he worried that Bhati was a little too ambitious, but he’d never had any reason to think the man would betray him, and he hadn’t been ingenuous when saying he one day expected Bhati to succeed him. But he knew that day was still a long time coming.
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Temez reached the hold and stared once more with fascination at their creation. Occasionally, crew members would approach and ask him if he needed assistance, but he would wave them on in reply. It amazed him that that innocent-looking cylinder, barely fifteen meters in length, contained within it the death of Americans and the victory of the jihad. He couldn’t get enough of it, actually, and he was beginning to wonder if the warnings from his cousin about turning into a fanatic weren’t true.
“Mahmed!”
Temez turned to see Bhati rushing toward him, an aide close on his heels. Sweat was covering his face and his eyes were bleary and tired. He’d volunteered to stay up during the night watch instead of letting Temez take over, citing that their leader would need to rest. He’d figured that Bhati had taken his rest with the changing of shifts, but apparently he was still up.
As his aide approached, Temez said, “Karif, try to get ahold of yourself.” He looked around at the other men to see if they were watching. A hard look from Temez was enough to put them back about their business. Temez returned his attention to Bhati. “You’re not setting a good example for our men.”
“I apologize, Mahmed,” Bhati replied, “and beg your forgiveness, but there is a message from Jabir and he says it’s urgent. It’s about the Thurayya.”
“He has broken communication silence?”
Bhati nodded slowly, trying to catch his breath. “He is waiting to speak to you now.”
Temez turned and raced for the bridge.
He could now understand what had Bhati so concerned, although he still wished his aide had shown a bit more discretion. Bhati was his most trusted warrior, and he was charged with leading the rest of the men through an operation. He enforced discipline and executed any orders that Temez gave him. That alone was a tremendous responsibility, and being in such a position meant he was to maintain a certain level of control and demeanor at all times. But obviously Temez had had to make an exception here.
The only eventuality for breaking communications silence was at the point one or the other was in position and awaiting confirmation from the others for a coordinated strike. But in this case, Bhati had said Jabir’s call had something to do with the Thurayya. Well, there was no point in attempting to guess. He would have to wait and see.
Sensor Sweep Page 20
