Engage at Dawn: First Contact
Page 5
Ben chuckled again. “Touché.” When they stepped into the sector building, he said, “OK, let’s see how much pushback we get from the watch supervisor.” After passing through security, the watch supervisor, a chief operations specialist, shuttled them to a room with several work stations. A man in civilian clothes greeted them when they entered, and the chief introduced him as Jim Rossetti, a civilian employee and the sector’s resident SAROPS expert. Ben put him in the picture with a brief explanation of the problem.
“We can run five separate threads of SAROPS simultaneously,” Rossetti explained. “But I have to hold one open in case we get a search mission.”
“You do?” asked Simmons. “On a weeknight like this?”
Rossetti glanced at Ben and rolled his eyes. “Doctor, we have more than a thousand response cases per year in this sector alone. We’re actively working two now, and a dozen are open. I’d say it’s almost certain that we’ll have at least one more new one before morning.”
“Sorry, I’m new to this.”
“Perfectly OK. Hey, at least it’s not Miami—they have more than double our load.”
“So, best case,” Ben interjected. “We’ve six cycles of runs plus set up time. When do you think it’ll wrap up?”
“I already have a batching macro setup. Figure about 60 to 90 minutes per cycle end to end. I think we can have the last runs complete by 0530, 0630 at the latest.”
“OK, let’s get on it,” Ben said, handing him the disk. “Everything’s in one file.”
“Thanks, hang around for a minute, while I get this loaded and make sure there are no hiccups, then I can cut you loose.” After a few minutes of typing, he said, “OK, everything looks good. You got a number I can call when they finish?”
Ben jotted down Kauai’s in-port number and handed it to Rossetti. “We’ll see you later.” He turned to Simmons. “I’m heading back to catch some z’s, you coming?”
“No, I’ll hang here and catch up with the outside world.” To Rossetti, he said, “Can you spare an office with a landline?”
“Sure, right out the door, then second door on the right.”
“Thanks.” Waving to Ben. “See you later, friend.”
Ben returned the wave. “See you back here at 5:30-ish.” He then excused himself to return to his ship. After a brief walk, Ben arrived at Kauai to the familiar odor of diesel fuel. Drake never procrastinated with the readiness of the engineering department, always setting up refueling first. Ben waited for him to look over from whatever he was supervising, then asked, “How’s it going, Chief?”
“Halfway through, sir,” Drake replied. “I have the Cape Cod guys billeted. I put Deffler with Joe and John, and Morgan with the non-rates.”
“Good. Thanks for that. Anything else going on?”
“Nothing to hold up sailing, sir.”
“Roger that,” Ben said and then walked on board. After taking a quick turn around the decks just to check things, he stopped by Sam’s cabin. “Captain, the SAROPS runs are working, probably be wrapping up around 0530.”
“Fine,” Sam said. “Is our new aviation detachment settling in OK?”
“Yes, sir. Chief put the first class in with Williams and Bondurant. Unfortunately, his buddy will slum with the non-rates.”
“Them’s the breaks.” Sam nodded. “OK, I know you’re tired, but I’d like to hold a strategy meeting as soon as possible. Can you get the department leads together, please? Make sure Williams, Guerrero, and the aviation lead attend too.”
“Will do, Captain.”
About 15 minutes later, Sam strode into the mess deck after being called down by Ben for the meeting. The assembled crew stood up, and Sam waved his hand, “relax, please.” After they resumed sitting, Sam sat at the head of the small table. “OK, guys, it’s late, but we need to get a plan together for tomorrow. Oh, and the inconvenience of this extended patrol will be reflected as usual in your pay.” The group chuckled, and Sam looked over to Drake. “Chief, what have you got?”
“We are topping off with fuel and water now. I’m replacing the generator air filters, should be wrapped up in a couple of hours. Ready for sea, sir.”
“Thanks, Chief.” Sam turned to Bondurant next. “Boats, what say you?”
“Captain, Connally just left on Emergency Leave with his dad’s passing, but we’re solid in spite of that, and we have no equipment casualties.”
“Thanks, Boats. Hoppy, what’s up in Ops?”
“Captain, I have just loaded the latest bridge software patch, and I’m running a diagnostic right now. The radar and comms gear are all up and available.”
“Thank you, and I have good news: I’m doubling the size of your department. In case anyone here hasn’t heard, we’ve picked up our own aviation detachment: two Aviation Electronics Technicians from Cape Cod and their pair of UAVs. Petty Officer Erich Deffler here is the senior, and he’ll be reporting to Hoppy. Petty Officer Deffler, welcome aboard. Do you go by Erich?”
“Thank you, Captain. Most people call me Fritz.”
“Great, I’ll ask you to tell us a little about your aircraft shortly. XO, how are we doing?”
“Captain, I’ve just been over to the sector office, and our SAROPS runs are proceeding. They’ll wrap up by 0530, and I’ll have a good list of investigation sites an hour later. Chef and Junior are out getting dry stores and the refrigerators restocked. I’m sorry, but we had to go on the economy for this one—I didn’t want to wait for the commissary to open tomorrow.”
“Can’t be helped,” Sam said. “I’ll sign whatever exigency forms you need.”
“Thank you, sir. The crew’s in good shape, no medical issues. As Bondurant mentioned, we sent Connally off to help his family. Chief’s been collecting for flowers from the crew.” He nodded to Drake.
“Hit me up when we’re done, Chief,” Sam said,
“Right, sir.”
Ben continued, “We’ll be turned around and ready for sea in about three and a half hours, sir.”
“First rate. OK, everybody, I know you’re wondering what the hell is going on here. Mr. Wyporek and I are in the dark too. What I do know is this: that boat we boarded took a huge whack from something that landed right next to it. They sent an astrophysicist, so I’m guessing it must be some sort of rare meteorite. It lit off plenty of screens, and they all point somewhere between here and 50 miles east. Now XO and Hoppy churned through the charts and came up with a list of every spot in this general area that boat could have anchored when ‘the event,’ as our passenger calls it, happened a few days ago. We are using the SAROPS computer software to . . . What’s the word XO?”
“Hindcast, Captain.”
“Thank you. ‘Hindcast’ to ditch the impossible spots and rank the ones left. If you want a detailed explanation of the geeky-mathy stuff that makes it work, I’ll refer you to the XO. Anyway, we’ll use that list to guide our search. Fritz, I’m told your UAVs have the latest gear and should be very helpful to us for this job.
“Now, the bad side. As you also know, that wreck is chock full of dope. Street value of a hundred million plus is likely, and you can’t get that much product without investing lots of cash. I think you can see where I’m going here. The owners are not likely to be satisfied just writing it off on their taxes. In fact, they might be looking right where we’ll be searching for that space rock.”
Sam let that set, watching the assembled crew exchange concerned glances. “I don’t think they’ll be foolish enough to take a crack at us. But better safe than sorry. Gunner,” he looked at Gunners Mate Second Class Guerrero. “We will exercise the 25mm and fifties tomorrow, with live rounds if we can get clearance in the warning area. Sound good?”
“Hell, yes, Captain!” Guerrero grinned.
“Sweet. Hoppy, after we break up, I want you to see if you can get us one of the warning areas for at least four hours starting about 1300 tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
“OK. It’s easier said t
han done, but try not to worry about this. We’ll have eyes in the sky to prevent surprises, and we can beat anybody dumb enough to try taking us on. I’m sharing this because you deserve to know the risks. When I get anything, I’ll pass it along. Any questions?” He scanned the table and, getting no response, continued. “OK, Fritz, tell us about our new air force, and, by the way, we’re pleased to have you here.”
Erich Deffler was a 13-year veteran and an experienced crew member on all types of Coast Guard fixed-wing aircraft. He had jumped on the opportunity to pilot UAVs. After a rigorous training course, he was among the first in the Coast Guard to pass the FAA examination for Small UAV pilot. He took part in the flight testing the Coast Guard’s Research and Development Center conducted at Air Station Cape Cod and on several cutters. This was his first independent deployment, and he was psyched. In his mid-30s, he was six-foot-one and thin with thick, slightly graying, black hair, deep blue eyes, and an angular face.
“Not as pleased as we are, sir.” Deffler smiled. “We’re in the season at the Cape with only two kinds of weather: butt-ass cold alternating with snow!” He paused while a few of the attendees chuckled. “We have two new Pumas with us. They have a special electronics payload that I’ve trained on but never operated. Since you’re heading out to the warning area tomorrow, can I ask the opportunity to launch one of the birds? I need to check for glitches with the payload and antenna blind spots.”
“You read my mind.” Sam nodded. “I was going to ask you for a show.”
“Yes, sir. It is amazing hardware. The resolution is wicked good on the camera, and we have a laser designator built-in. It’s hand-launched and sealed for saltwater recovery. I’m sorry to say we haven’t come up with a practical way to recover aboard a patrol boat yet, so we’ll need your small boat to do the pickup.”
“Not a problem. Will you want your man in the boat, or are you OK with one of us knuckle-draggers doing the pickup?”
The phrasing of the question startled Deffler, but he quickly recovered. “Captain, we can do it whichever way you want.”
Sam smiled. “We’ll let him show us how at least the first few times.”
“Righto, sir,” Deffler continued. “In theory, we can launch from any clear space on the weather decks, but I recommend the main deck forward of the gun. It has the best aspect clearance and likely the best relative wind. I’ll need to mount the antenna in a prominent place. It has a Bluetooth connection to the control station, so I won’t need to run any cabling if it’s within 50 feet.”
“I’ll see to the antenna placement, Captain,” Drake said.
“Great. We’ll try putting the control station on the chart table for now,” Sam said. “How much space will you need, Fritz?”
“Oh, not much at all, sir. It’s just a laptop and a USB joystick.”
“OK, it seems like we can make it work. What can it do for us?”
Deffler beamed. “Sir, the camera is hi-res with a hyperspectral imaging capacity. We can scout locations as good as having eyes-on. Sometimes it’s even better because the hyperspectral can pick up traces that we wouldn’t normally see. We can get into a narrow waterway or cove and save you a risky transit or long small boat ride. We can even provide target designation for the gun.”
Sam noted Williams’s impassive face and folded arms. Williams was the Electronics Technician on Kauai—he worked and maintained the fire control station for the main gun and was territorial on this subject. “We’ll check it out tomorrow, but it sounds good. Anything else we need to know?”
“No, sir. That covers it.”
“Right, anyone else?” Sam looked around the table. “OK, let’s plan on stations manned by 1145 and underway at 1200 tomorrow. Thanks everybody, and good night.” They all stood when Sam rose and left the room, with Ben a few steps behind him.
Hopkins stepped over to Deffler, hand outstretched. “Fritz, I’m Emilia or ‘Hoppy’ if you like.”
Deffler shook her hand and smiled. “Glad to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Hopkins smiled back. “I’d like to meet on the Bridge at 0830. We can go over placing your equipment and do some dry runs. I’d also like to chat about tactics.”
“I’ll be there.” He nodded.
“OK, see you in the morning.” She turned and left the mess deck along with Deffler and the remaining crew.
6
Skirmish
U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Kauai, Moored, Trumbo Point Annex, Naval Air Station Key West, Florida
0543 EST, 15 January
“XO, XO?”
“Yes?” Ben opened his eyes to see Pickins, a non-rated watchstander, leaning over him.
“You have a phone call, sir, line 2.”
“Thank you,” Ben swung his legs off the bunk and reached for the phone on his mini-desk. “Wyporek here.”
“Hi Lieutenant, Jim Rossetti. Your runs completed successfully, and I saved the output for you.”
“Outstanding. Is Dr. Simmons there?”
“Uh-huh. He’s wearing a ditch in the carpet waiting for you.”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
After a quick electric shave and comb, Ben jogged over to the building and the analysis office. “Good morning, Doctor, Jim. Shall we work some Bayesian magic?”
“When did morning ever break, And find such beaming eyes awake? Dazzle us with your analytical wonders, Lieutenant,” Simmons smirked.
Rossetti stared at Simmons, then turned to Ben with a tired “Is this for real?” look before holding out an external data drive. “Here is the output you requested. Mind if I watch you work through this?”
“No problem,” Ben sat down at the workstation. “I’ll explain as we go.”
After cranking the data through formulas on Microsoft Excel, Ben eliminated 11 possibilities and divided the remaining 12 between “more likely” and “less likely” candidates. After more work, he identified the best search plan based on the SAROPS data. “… And you see here, the remaining probabilities update as we eliminate each candidate.”
“Very nice.” Rossetti nodded. “Can I get copies of those spreadsheets?”
“You can keep them. All I need are the printouts.”
The day was bustling on the Coast Guard base when Ben and Simmons walked to Kauai’s mooring. “So, get any sleep last night?” Ben asked.
“A couple hours head down in between phone calls. Interesting developments have occurred, both in my dark domain and yours of sunlight and truth.”
“For instance?”
“I got a report on the body you guys found. The cause of death is ‘Generalized Acceleration Trauma,’ meaning his injuries were consistent with a 100-foot fall on to a pile of rocks. The time of death is unknown, but the decomp suggests it’s contemporaneous with the event. No ID from CODIS, but we’re still working it through Interpol.”
“OK, not unexpected. Anything else?”
“Yes, two rather strange break-ins between here and Marathon. Some rascals burned the padlock off a Keys Energy storage building and stole a spool of high-grade copper cable.”
“Wait a minute. Burned? How thick was the padlock?”
“That was the curious thing—standard padlock. Any pair of bolt cutters would have worked just fine. Plus, there was plenty more material left behind at least as valuable as what they grabbed.
“The other instance was stranger—a separate break-in at an electronics supply store with the backdoor deadbolt burned through. The target, in this case, was a random bunch of circuit boards. Again, lots of more valuable material was untouched.”
“Hmmm. And I suppose no CCTV or alarms triggered in either case?”
“No alarms. The security video in both places suffered odd faults, with no footage captured during the likely periods of the robberies.”
“Interesting. As you say, it’s peculiar. But who cares? You think there’s a connection to our work?”
“I think that’s a genuine possibility we should investigate.”
“Understood, but this could be an important piece of the puzzle. I’m sure your Captain wants all the information he can get. I can be very persuasive, you know.” Simmons winked and smiled.
Ben shook his head. “Dude, you’re on your own.”
◆◆◆
The pair’s return to the patrol boat elicited a mixture of reactions. The success of the SAROPS analysis pleased Sam, and he directed Ben to meet with Hopkins to plan the sequence of exploratory visits. Simmons’s requisitioning of his executive officer for investigative work was another matter. After dispatching Ben, Sam took Simmons for a private talk in his cabin. “I don’t like coughing up my XO when we’re prepping for a hazardous operation, Doctor. You must have other assets here you can call.”
“Captain, we keep a light footprint on the ground for operations this classified. We roll in the FBI and the rest, and we’ll end up blowing the lid off the entire thing. Ben’s levelheaded and smart—I’m sure he’ll be fine. Besides, wouldn’t you rather have Ben with eyes-on than me skulking around on my own?” Simmons smiled slyly.
Sam did prefer having one of his people monitoring Simmons’s activities. Still, he could not comprehend Simmons’s sense of urgency for a matter that seemed both trivial and irrelevant to their mission. Also, there was something hidden behind the too-pat story and the agent’s maddening expression that worried him, so he temporized. “Tell me, if this thing is so damn secret, how are you going to keep a lid on it flashing a DIA badge?”
Simmons nodded. “Yes, that would normally be a problem. Fortunately, besides being DIA guy Dr. Peter Simmons, I’m also Investigator Jim Pearson of the Florida Department of Law Enforcement. Up in Tallahassee, we’re anxious about a series of bizarre robberies up and down the state, you see. My people handled the groundwork with the locals to reduce curiosity.”
“What about Ben?”