Foundation
Page 35
Book Two of The Iridium Rainbow Chronicles.
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Chapter One
Captain Oriega was angry with himself. He knew this trip was important and was happy he’d managed to make up the delay from the last port. Had he known the loading bay machinery was out, he would have rescheduled, but hindsight was a wonderful thing.
His nephew, Pablo, had gone ashore in the skiff to conduct his usual low-key reccy, and had immediately radioed back that the dock master was speaking to two men. Oriega had told Pablo to watch them from the safety of one of the trailer cafés by the dock master’s office. After they’d left, Pablo had been smart enough to follow them.
They’d gone straight to the Israeli embassy.
After Oriega had docked the Star, he’d gone to see the dock master. He knew him well and really hoped he hadn’t been foolish enough to give away any information about them—but even though the dock master had given him his sincere assurances when Oriega slipped him his “special bonus” payment, he couldn’t be sure. The dock master had told him that the two Israelis had asked him to report the docking of any high-speed vessels.
He knew then that it was the Star that had caught their interest. In open water, he had cranked her up to make up the time, and with her special engine upgrades, she was fast—too fast to be identified on the radar as a cargo ship... but fast enough to draw attention.
While the crew handled the loading, he took the time to check around and noticed the small cutter in the harbor. It was out of place, but, more importantly, it had an Israeli registration. Alarm bells rang inside of him.
He needed a plan.
Carlton had warned him to remain cautious and, above all, do whatever was needed to avoid being tracked or followed. He had been specifically concerned about unusual activity of an Israeli or Indian origin. The Star had jamming equipment onboard, but he knew that to use it would certainly confirm that the ship was anything but ordinary.
He needed to revert to a more basic tactic.
In the late afternoon, Pablo and his cousin had quietly slipped away from loading duties, and, as night fell, they entered the water with scuba gear, out of sight and unnoticed. They returned twenty minutes later to join the crew boarding the ship, which had now completed loading.
He’d slipped anchor an hour later and headed out to sea. Now, as dawn broke, he watched his radar. His tail was still there. The transponder Pablo had attached to the cutter’s hull alongside the explosives bleeped brightly on his screen.
Altering the Star’s course the second time confirmed the dock master had betrayed him; the cutter was definitely tracking them. His course showed them he was making for a refueling ship anchored in the Bay of Bengal. Oriega wondered what an Israeli vessel was doing in Indian waters as he watched intently as it altered course to shadow his every move. The crew had gathered on the stern and looked back toward the horizon. Joining their gaze, he pressed the detonator switch.
The blip on his screen vanished, and the blinding flash left him in no doubt that the Israeli cutter was gone forever. Satisfied, he altered course to resume his course for his last pickup.