Necessary Retribution

by Mike McNeff

  He went to the stern and loosened the motor boat the ISI man came in. When it floated a safe distance from the swim platform, he tied it off. The boat now trailed behind the yacht by a short distance. He surveyed the bay and saw no activity indicating anyone chased after them. He went back to the main salon and pulled Alex aside.

  “We're probably going to have company in a while. We need to get the bombs and cases near the stern.”

  “Why?”

  “This yacht isn't built for speed. We can't outrun anything. If we get chased before the sub gets to us we could be screwed.”

  “I wonder how long before the ISI misses their man?”

  “I don't know, but I do know we have things the ISI, the CIA and your government wants and not for the same reasons. We've got to get to that sub or things could get ugly.”

  Alex studied Robin's face. “You're a complicated man, my friend.”

  “Jesus, you're beginning to sound like my wife! Look, I'm going to move all this stuff to the transom. If we see anything suspicious, we'll put this thing on auto pilot, load up the motor boat and head out to sea and hopefully the sub. You with me?”

  “Indeed I am.”

  FORTY-THREE

  BURKE JAMISON LISTENED CAREFULLY to the air as he stood on the tarmac of the Saidu Sharif airport near Mingora, Pakistan. He thought he could he could hear a faint rumble of a multi-engine aircraft. He turned to Ernie Jackson who stood next to him.

  “Hear that?”

  “Yeah, they're coming.” Ernie turned to First Sergeant Setchinko. “Sergeant, get your men ready.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The rumble grew louder and the team quickly prepared their vehicles to load onto the planes. Then the rumble ceased. Burke strained to listen and was jolted as an AN-12 appeared out of the darkness and screeched onto the runway. One half of the team started their vehicles and raced after the plane.

  Burke caught a light out of the corner of his eye, turned and saw headlights coming toward the airport. Then blue lights lit up on top of the car. “Shit!” Burke jumped out of the Land Rover and started running toward the police car.

  “I'm behind you, Burke!” Mike Collins yelled.

  “Just knock ’em out! Don't kill them!”

  “Roger!”

  Burke began waving his arms and yelling in Arabic. The police car stopped and Burke went up to the driver's door and started saying he needed help. He saw Mike come out of the shadows behind the passenger. When Mike reached the door post, Burke grabbed the driver around the neck with his right arm and opened the door with his left, dragging the officer out of the car. He punched a power syringe into the officer's neck. The man struggled for a few seconds and then went limp.

  “Mike, you okay?”

  “Yeah, I'm good here.”

  Burke looked in the car and heard someone calling frantically on the radio. “We better get out of here. We're going to have company soon.”

  The two men ran back to the rest of the team. The first AN-12 took off. As it lifted and flew away, Burke could hear sirens in the distance. The second AN-12 came in for a landing.

  “Come on, move it!” The team sped to the second plane. It spun around at the end of the runway as its cargo door lowered. Burke saw multiple flashing blue lights coming to the airport. He jumped out of the Land Rover. “Get in the airplane!” He yelled at Mike. Burke knelt down as a police car charged toward the plane. He fired a good burst from this Colt Commando at the engine of the car. The police car braked hard, did a sharp turn and sped away, steam coming from the engine compartment. The other police cars stopped moments later.

  Burke heard the plane go to full power. He jumped up and ran for the ramp. A bullet went by his left ear. Mike and Emmett were at the end of the ramp which slowly rose up. Burke slung his carbine and sprinted as fast as he could go and grabbed Mike's waiting hand. He felt the strength of Emmett's huge arms grab and pull him onto the raising ramp. The angle of the ramp reached a point where all three men rolled down it onto the cargo deck in a heap. As the plane lifted off, they looked at each other and broke out in a fit of laughter.

  Robin sat at the helm of the Picushkin's yacht. They were ten nautical miles from the bay heading into the Arabian Sea on auto pilot. So far no one came after them that he could see. He used a small camera and began photographing the pages of the Russian order of battle. He got that done and placed the book back into the briefcase. Then he picked up his satellite phone and called Ernie.

  “Rob, where are you?”

  “Alex and I are fine and we have the goods. Listen to me. You need to stay in Osh or go to Zurich. It's your call. Whatever you do, don't go to a country allied with the US or NATO.”

  “Why?”

  “My guess is you'll be arrested.”

  “Damn, Rob, what kind of mess did we get ourselves into?”

  “We'll be all right. Just don't do anything other than what I just said until I contact you.”

  There was silence for a moment. “Roger. We should be in Osh soon.”

  “Good. Hang in there, brother.”

  “Same to you.”

  When Robin told him to get the team back to Osh earlier that night, Ernie felt sick. On one hand he knew Robin was right. On the other hand he worried about his best friend being alone in a hostile country with a Russian GRU agent as his only ally.

  Reluctantly, he had First Sergeant Setchinko contact Osh and arrange the pick-up. Osh came back and told them to make for the airport near Mingora, north of Peshawar on the N95 highway. The pick-up would occur the next night, which meant the team had to lay low for a day. This wasn't a comforting thought for Ernie. The team was being hunted.

  The Peshawar Police were all over the place…looking. Fortunately, it appeared they really didn't know what they were looking for. Ernie knew the ISI, on the other hand, did have an idea of what they were looking for and the two helicopters in the air indicated they were indeed looking. Ernie fervently hoped the ISI didn't tell the police much…which is usually the case between intelligence agencies and the police.

  Ernie gave the order to exfiltrate to Mingora and the team performed like the true professionals they were. They spaced themselves on N95 and some stopped and acted like tourists every now again. This allowed the team to make sure they weren't being followed. Once in Mingora and the surrounding area, they mingled in the towns or stayed in the countryside until time to gather at the airport that night. Although, the second plane nearly got nabbed, Ernie felt good about how the operation went.

  Robin said he had the goods and Ernie and the team captured two Al-Qaeda operatives, in addition to the several they killed in the warehouse. But Ernie worried about Robin. He had learned much from Robin, but he couldn't quite bring himself to be as eclectic about the world as Robin had come to be. Robin usually briefed Ernie on his conversations with Grassley, but Ernie knew he didn't tell him everything because he was protecting him. Robin made sure if there had to be a sacrificial lamb, it would be him and no one else.

  The more he thought about it, the more he decided he would hold a council with the rest of the team when they got to Osh. They just may not lay low. There were a lot of devious minds in the Guardians.

  FORTY-FOUR

  THEY HAD BEEN UNDERWAY for 12 hours and were one hundred and twenty nautical miles from Karachi, so Robin got more hopeful things were going to work out. They were in international waters, but a turn to port could put them in Indian waters in a couple of hours. He traded places with Alex every so often so Alex could take a break from watching the prisoners and interrogating Picushkin, as only Alex could do. It also gave Robin time to properly dress the ISI agent's wound.

  Picushkin talked. He didn't like pain. When Alex asked him about the others involved in this plot, Robin sensed Picushkin held back from telling everything. Robin didn't really care. That was between him and his country.

  It was during those breaks Robin was able to move the briefcase with the nuclear order of battle to
the bridge and back without Alex noticing. In fact, the only one who knew was Ahmed, but he had seen his mother murdered and he now considered Robin his family…another worry for Robin as he knew he was far from a hero to the US Government at the moment and getting Ahmed into the country could be a problem. Ease up brother…one step at a time.

  “Ahmed, I'm going down to give Alex a break.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Ahmed, you've been through a rough time and I know you're confused and hurt, but you need to just call me Rob.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Robin laughed. “Oh, well you'll get the hang of it.” He went down the stairs.

  “You ready for a break?”

  “Yes and we need to feed these guys again.”

  “Okay, take a break and then we'll get some food.”

  Suddenly an explosive roar blasted over the yacht. The two men looked at each other.

  “Sounds like jet fighters!” Robin yelled as he ran for the rear door. He went out on the deck and caught a flash of sunlight off the canopies of two U.S. Navy FA-18 fighters in a climbing right turn.

  “Damn, they found us,” he muttered to himself. He knew they wouldn't fly that low and close to a yacht unless they considered it hostile. He ran back into the main salon.

  “It's the U.S. Navy, Alex! Find out where that sub is!”

  Robin ran up to the bridge and found a terrified Ahmed. “Don't worry Ahmed. They aren't going to attack us.” I hope. Robin turned on the yacht's radar. He had kept it off to minimize them being seen, but now it didn't matter.

  “Damn, we got a crowd coming!” The radar showed a contact behind them and closing fast. He also had several contacts off the one o'clock position.

  “Alex, where the hell is the submarine!”

  Alex, poked his head through the stair hatch. “They are close, Robin. What are we going to do?”

  “We're going to try to create a Mexican stand-off.”

  “Look, sir! There's a submarine!” Ahmed exclaimed.

  Robin heard a familiar noise and looked to the right. “Yeah, and here comes two Sea Stallion helicopters, probably loaded with Marines.” He reduced the throttle as the submarine came closer.

  “Alex, get Picushkin and all the cases on the sub! Just leave me one of the money cases.”

  Alex poked his head up again. “What about the other two prisoners?”

  “Leave them for me. I need the bargaining chips.”

  Alex's head disappeared, but then popped up again. “Robin!” Robin turned and met Alex's eyes. “!”

  “Brothers for life, Alex. Now get your ass outta here.”

  Another set of jet fighters roared over the yacht, but this time they were Indian Mig 29s.

  Damn, we got a regular international convention!

  The Navy jets blasted for higher altitude. The Indian Migs stayed at low altitude and circled the spectacle building around the yacht, submarine, Pakistani destroyer and the US Marine helicopters. The submarine crew tied the yacht to the sub. Robin put the boat in neutral, grabbed Ahmed and took him down to the rear deck.

  “Stay here, Ahmed!”

  Robin went into the main salon and moved the two prisoners to the rear deck. When he came back out, Robin saw the Russian submarine crew pointing weapons at the US Marine helicopters and the Marines pointing weapons at the Russians. Jesus, this is insane! He tried Grassley's number again and got the same message saying the number was no longer operational. Then he dialed Ernie.

  “Rob! Are you okay?”

  “I'm on the deck of Picushkin's yacht with four countries surrounding me. Have you heard from Grassley?”

  “Rob, Jordan Yates and Bill were fired. They're no longer with the CIA.”

  The words stung Robin. He knew now the situation neared a deadly and catastrophic stage. “Ernie, if this doesn't work out, tell Karen and the kids I love them.” Robin pushed the end button.

  Admiral James Ellison listened to the conversation between the president, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and the Director of the CIA on his secure satellite connection. He waited for orders. He relayed to the group a standoff was in progress around the yacht. From the conversation, he could tell they were really pissed off at this guy Marlette.

  “Admiral Ellison, this is the president. You are ordered to terminate Robin Marlette with prejudice.”

  FORTY-FIVE

  MARINE SGT. ENOS BARCLAY couldn't believe what he heard over his headset.

  “Wolfhound One, you have a green light on target one.”

  He looked over at his spotter, Sgt. Jeff Smiley. “Did I hear that right?”

  “They're saying to take him out, Eno.”

  “Fuck me! Didn't they say that guy Marlette was an American citizen?”

  “Eno, they're not asking for our opinion. It's an order. We gotta take him out!”

  Sgt. Barclay felt a tight knot building in his stomach. This isn't what I signed up to do as a Marine sniper. I'm supposed to be taking out the commies and terrorists!

  He shook his head to clear his mind and took several deep breaths. He made slight adjustments to his body position and settled his head behind the scope on his Barrett .50 caliber rifle. He began melding his mind to the rhythms of the yacht and the helicopter. He vaguely heard Sgt. Smiley tell the pilot to steady the chopper for a shot. Barclay acquired Robin in the crosshairs. Smiley gave him the final dope…range, wind, temperature. Barclay made two scope adjustments and took a deep breath and then slowly let it out while starting the squeeze on the trigger. He had the rhythm synced and the target's head in the crosshairs. Then the target turned and looked directly at him.

  Alex saw the sniper in the helicopter focus on Robin and realized the he was preparing for a shot. He yelled at Robin and pointed to the helicopter and then screamed to the Captain of the submarine to open fire on the Americans. He saw Robin look towards the chopper.

  James Chapple, the new Director of the CIA frantically waved at the president as he talked to someone on the phone.

  “Stop the shot! Stop the shot!”

  The president didn't understand what the director was trying to say. “What are you talking about?”

  “Tell them not to kill Marlette!”

  Ernie was furious and screamed into the phone to the Director of the CIA.

  “If you sons of bitches have killed Robin, we will bring you down! All I have to do is push a button and everything we know and have done will go to every major newspaper and media outlet in the world!”

  “I'm trying to stop it, I'm trying!”

  “Trying isn't good enough!”

  Alex glared at the captain, Dimitry Anglov.

  “Shoot down the helicopters!”

  “I am not going to risk my men and this submarine over one American spy,” the captain calmly replied.

  “That man saved millions of Russian lives and helped me recover these nuclear weapons! Shoot down the helicopters!”

  “I'm sorry. I'm not going to give such an order and you will not shoot either.”

  Admiral Ellison overheard the commotion in the White House situation room. He didn't need to be told what to do. He repeated his order.

  “Do not shoot Marlette! Did you get my order?!”

  Silence was his answer.

  Confusion reigned on the Marine helicopter. The shot had gone off. The pilot screamed into the intercom. The Marine Captain yelled over the tactical net. Sgt. Barclay held his head over the edge of the helicopter floor and puked over the side. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “You okay, Eno?” Sgt. Smiley asked.

  “F-f-fuck no, I'm not okay! I just killed someone who shouldn't have been killed!” Tears were streaming down Barclay's face.

  “Hate to break the news to you sport, but you missed Marlette.”

  “What?!”

  “You missed Marlette and shot the Asian guy. That son of a bitch jumped Marlette and knocked him down just at the right time and you hit him instead of Marlette…and you tore
a big hunk out of the gunwale of the boat and hit the sub, too, but it doesn't look like it did any damage to the sub.”

  The instant Robin saw the sniper, he was slammed to the deck from the back. He thought he had been shot at first, but realizing he wasn't hit, he looked over and saw the Chinese agent's body lying on the deck with everything above the chest missing. Ahmed was on his knees screaming. Robin grabbed Ahmed and jumped through the door into the weather room and went prone next to the wall. He pulled Ahmed close to him and felt the boy trembling. He kept his MP5 trained on the ISI man. A large hole was in the gunwale near where he last stood and the remains of the Korean's head and shoulders were sprayed all over the deck. Anger surged through him. He considered crawling to the door and emptying a magazine at the chopper, when he heard the noise of the helicopters fading. His satellite phone beeped.

  “Hello.”

  “Colonel Marlette?”

  “This is Robin Marlette, but judging by the last few seconds, I don't think I'm a colonel anymore, but I am one hundred percent pissed off! Just who in the hell thinks I need to die! Have you idiots gone fucking nuts?!”

  “This is Admiral Ellison. I command Task Force Sea Strike One and now I'm finally in full control of this operation. I apologize for the attempt to kill you. It's not something I would've recommended. Can we discuss this situation?”

  “You picked a hell of time to tell me you want to talk, Admiral. Sixty seconds ago would have worked a lot better!”

  “Bear with me here, Colonel. Things have not been going the way I wanted it. You have my word on that, but as I said, I have full control now. I'd like to talk man to man about this.”

  Robin winced at these words. He'd heard them before. “What's your combat experience, Admiral?”

  There was a pause. “Well, I fought in Vietnam in the Mobile Riverine Force on the Mekong Delta. I commanded a patrol boat as a junior officer and a lieutenant. From there I went into the SEALs and saw action in several places, including Panama and Grenada. Then I was assigned as the executive officer to a Marine Expeditionary Unit task force and now I command one.”