Keith Douglass - Seal Team Seven

"We are also concerned," Mason added, "about whether or not the Yuduki Maru could rendezvous with the Hormuz. Right now, we're probably dealing with a relatively small number of terrorists, presumably members of the freighter's crew. If she meets up with the Hormuz, though, the terrorists could be reinforced by troops. Worse, all or some of Yuduki Maru's cargo could be transferred to the ship."

"Is that likely, Captain?" Admiral Kerrigan asked. "The Japanese freighter has twice the speed of the Hormuz and is a hell of a lot more seaworthy to boot. The Iranians wouldn't be crazy enough to put the cargo in..." He let the thought trail off as he considered the possibilities.

"As you've just guessed, Admiral," Mason said with a grim smile, "we don't have the faintest idea what the Iranians are going to do. Maybe they wouldn't care if the plutonium was scattered across half the Indian Ocean. Maybe that's the whole point of this operation, to call attention to some political grievance they'll announce over the course of the next few days. Or maybe they figure we won't dare attack because any damage to the vessel would cause the very eco-disaster we're trying to prevent. The surface currents in that part of the Indian Ocean all run east to west, toward the East African coast, then down the Mozambique Channel. Huge areas of the coast, from Mogadishu to Cape Town, could be contaminated if the Yuduki Maru sank or caught fire.

"As you SEAL Team COs work up your operations drafts, keep in mind that we may have to deal with both the Yuduki Maru and the Hormuz, as well as the possible presence of an Iranian Kilo.

"But — and I can't stress this enough — we still don't have any hard proof that the Iranians are behind this incident. That's strictly a worst-case scenario. Shikishima could have been blown up by a bomb somehow planted on board in Japan. The absence of both Hormuz and Enghelab-i Eslami from Bandar Abbas could be coincidence. If the Iranians are not involved, we're probably looking at a strictly terrorist act, probably by something like the old Japanese Red Army."

"They've been out of the picture for a good many years now," Hadley pointed out.

"One of their leaders formally renounced the use of force in 1981," Mason said. "But they maintained a headquarters in a PFLP camp outside of Beirut throughout the eighties. They could have decided to become active again. Or we could be dealing with another Japanese terrorist organization, an offshoot, or some group we haven't heard of yet."

"Lovely thought," one of Bainbridge's staff officers muttered.

"My people will provide all of you with everything we know about the JRA and other terrorist groups that could be involved. And of course, if we have any communication with the hijackers — demands, threats, whatever — we'll set up an intel conduit to keep all pertinent material flowing your way."

"So," Eight's Captain Harrison said thoughtfully. "We're basing out of Diego Garcia, I suppose."

Diego Garcia was the tiny coral atoll, some one thousand miles south of the southern tip of India, which was the United States Navy's sole outpost in the vastness of the Indian Ocean.

"We're already putting our transport assets together toward that end," Bainbridge said. "Air Force C-5s will carry your helicopters and whatever other gear you need to the island. The State Department is also in touch with the Sultan of Oman, trying to get permission to use Masirah as a staging area."

An island located just off the Omani coast, Masirah was close to the southern approaches to the Strait of Hormuz. Though the traditionally touchy Arab sensibilities objected to American troops on their territory, Masirah had been used in the past, beginning with the Iranian hostage-rescue attempt in 1980. Obtaining permission to use the former British base there would probably not be difficult, so long as the Americans kept a low profile.

Which SEALs were very good at doing.

"That's all I have at this time, gentlemen," Mason concluded. "Other questions?"

There were none.

"Okay." He scanned the faces of the group until his eyes met those of Captain Coburn, of SEAL Seven. "Phil?" he said. "Don't leave."

In small groups, already discussing the operation, the others filed from the room. Phillip Coburn remained.

"What do you think, Phil?" Mason asked.

"Could be hot, Paul." Alone, they reverted to first names. "If those terrorists planted explosives around the ship, there may not be any way to get at them with any kind of reasonable chance of success."

"Gambling on the odds will be up to the politicians," Mason said. "How's Seven fixed right now?"

"Second and Fourth Platoons are in the Caribbean," Coburn said. "Training deployment to Vieques with the Marines. One and Three are here. They could be ready to leave on twenty-four hours' notice."

Unlike the other SEAL Teams, SEAL Seven, brand-new and still growing, had only four platoons.

"How would you handle the deployment? Just in rough."

"Two platoons," Coburn said without hesitation. "I'd put Third Platoon in the lead, with one squad for the Yuduki Maru, a second for the Hormuz. They're my most experienced people, with the most actual combat experience. They'd go in and secure both vessels at once, then hold 'em for the NEST guys. First Platoon in reserve, probably at Masirah. As backup to Three in case something goes wrong."

"Third Platoon just got back from Iraq."

"Right. And they just got kicked in the gut too. I need to put them back in ASAR."

"This is too damned important a mission for you to use it to build up your people's morale, Phil."

"They can handle it, Paul. They're the best people I have. There was fire in his eyes and in his voice as he said the words, and Mason could feel his excitement.

"Well, the final decision hasn't come through yet, but there's a good chance we're going to have to use Seven on this one. I had to go through the motions with the others, but Two, Four, and Eight are all pretty well committed elsewhere right now."

"What about Six?"

Mason smiled as he shook his head. "That's USSOC territory, and outside my bailiwick. But Six is under a cloud right now, and I have a feeling the Joint Chiefs aren't going to want to use them. The size of the appropriations for their toys are part of the reason Congress is looking so hard at the SEALS just now.

"In any case, we're still looking at the Seven concept of a unit that can deploy outside of established operational areas. And Seven's pre-positioned gear is still handy at Bahrain. Unlike SEAL Six."

"That's right," Coburn said eagerly. "Like I said, twenty-four hours. All you have to ship are my boys."

"Draw up your plan, Phil. Have it on my desk tomorrow morning."

"Aye, aye, Captain!" He looked as delighted as a kid at Christmas.

Mason sighed. He just wished that he could be going along.

1330 hours (Zulu -5)

NAVSPECWARGRU-Two Training Center

Little Creek, Virginia

Lieutenant Murdock stood with the men of Blue Squad, Third Platoon. "Okay, people," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Hit it again. Four-man entry, door center, buttonhook."

They were standing outside the NSWG building variously called the "fun house" and the "killing house," part of the SEALS' Little Creek training facilities. They were tired, all of them, and their faces were coated with greasepaint and gunpowder. Their bodies seemed bent beneath the weight of their gear, combat blacks and full harness, Kevlar vests, safety helmets, and tactical radios. Murdock had been running the platoon since daybreak, literally and figuratively. Gunfire banged and crackled in the distance — First Platoon practicing on the outdoor firing range. It had been a long day already, and it would not be ending at five o'clock.