Richard Johnson - Deadly Cargo - A Chilling Naval Terrorism Thriller

“If that is what you believe and you are sworn to kill infidels, how do I get out of this alive?”

“You will live only because I have decided to let you live. But if I die, you have no promise among my brothers. They are not bound by my oath.”

“Then I better keep you alive as long as I can,” Josh said.

“That is amusing.” Husam al Din smiled. What he didn’t say was that in less than a month, he intended to be dead – a martyr for his cause, as he personally delivered the deadly toxin in the container.

October 11th – Eastern Caribbean

October 11th dawned warm and calm in the tiny hidden anchorage of Waisaladup in the San Blas Islands. Palm trees on the encircling beach waved a friendly greeting to Nicole Plover as she poked her head through the forward hatch above the main stateroom bed.

“Ahhh,” she yawned to Dan, “another gorgeous day in paradise.”

Without waiting for an answer from her still-snoozing husband, she squirmed up through the hatch and onto the foredeck, then went to the bow seat on the starboard side and plopped down facing the sunrise. The world and all its problems seemed so far away as she soaked up the warmth of pink sunlight and listened to the birds and felt the gentle rocking motion of the boat on the water.

It’s great to be a morning person, she thought, reveling in the quiet time she enjoyed while Dan and the kids were still asleep. This must be what it was like for Eve when she woke up before Adam in the Garden of Eden. It was a vision that brought a smile to her lips. Looking around and seeing no one, she eased over the side and into the warm velvet water. The kids were late sleepers, so she pretended to have Eden all to herself.

Nicole was just gliding past the port bow on her way around the boat for a counterclockwise lap when she heard a deep voice. “Why hello there Mrs Plover. Nice to see you this morning.”

“Eeek!” The sound burst out of her throat before she could stop it.

“Ha!” Dan laughed. “I got you. You thought I was still asleep, didn’t you? Thought you could sneak out for a little morning swim without me?”

She splashed him as he moved in to surround her with his arms. “How did you get in the water so quietly?”

“That’s my secret weapon,” he said “I can’t tell you, or I might never have another opportunity like this again.”

“How long do you think the kids will sleep?” she asked, cuddling in his hug.

“I drugged them. They’re out for the whole day,” he joked. “Why? What did you have in mind, Mrs Plover?” He hiked his eyebrows twice when he said her name.

“Hmm,” – she smiled her best come-hither smile – “well, since you’ve drugged the children, maybe we have time for…”

“Hi mom. Hi dad,” came the bright childish voice of Cadee. “What are you doing swimming so early in the morning?”

Nicole darted beneath the bridge deck between the bows and pulled Dan in after her. “Uh, oh, hi honey,” she replied. “What are you doing up so early?” She scowled at Dan. “I thought your father drugged you.”

“What?” Cadee said. “What did you say?”

Nicole poked Dan. “I said, is Jacob still asleep?”

“Yeah, he’s snoring his brains out,” Cadee answered.

“Well, here’s a plan,” Nicole said, “why don’t you go jump in the shower and I’ll come and get breakfast started.”

“Okay,” Cadee said, and disappeared inside.

“Drugged the kids,” Nicole chided. “That will teach me not to believe everything I hear from a good-looking man.”

“Want me to go get you a towel?”

“That would be very nice,” she smiled.

“It’ll cost.”

“What’s the price?” She raised her eyebrows as he had earlier.

“Hmmm.” He hesitated, looked away and then looked back as if he were thinking about how high a price to ask. “Okay, a kiss for now, and your undying love forever.”

“I can manage that,” She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her soft lips against his.

“Umm, that was nice.”

“Now, Mr Plover, my towel?”

“Right,” he said. They swam to the back of the boat and climbed the steps. Then he wrapped her in a nice warm towel and they stood in the cockpit and watched the rest of the sunrise together.

October 11th – The Land Without Laws

A frosty Autumn wind whistled under the eaves as Josh Adams sat on his hard bunk in the mud brick house. His wristwatch told him it was October 11th, but it felt like the middle of January. He was a prisoner in this bitter and uninsulated house. A small sheepherder stove made of thin sheet metal glowed red as he stoked the fire and tried to warm the room. His morning and noon meals consisted of goat milk and hard bread – for supper, his captors brought him hot soup. The drinking water smelled stale, and Josh wondered which pasture creek it came from, where years of animal dung might have polluted it.

It had been two days since Husam al Din last talked with Josh. At the end of that visit, the Arab rolled up the chart of the Port of Miami together with the overlay drawing and all the papers Josh used to write descriptions of the target area. Then he left the house and Josh did not see him again.

Two days and nights came and went, and the only contact Josh had with anyone was when food and water were brought. It’s exactly like being in solitary confinement in a prison, Josh thought. Food shoved through the door, then the door slammed and locked . Josh rehearsed in his mind all that happened since his arrival in this forsaken place. Weeks passed, yet he had not been allowed outside. His windows were boarded up with rough planks, but by pressing his eyes close to the slits between the planks he could see a little of the narrow dirt road that ran in front of the tiny house. A couple of times, he caught a glimpse of Husam al Din walking between this house and the one across the way, and he wondered if that was where Sorgei Groschenko was housed.

Now, there was a mystery, Josh thought . Why did al-Qaeda need to reach into Russia for a weapons expert to help them with their jihad? These were people who seemed to be able to take a couple of firecrackers and a cell phone and come up with an improvised explosive device that they could set off at their pleasure. So why did they need somebody like Sorgei? It was a puzzle – one that Josh wanted to solve. Maybe with Husam al Din out of the way for a while he could figure out how to spend some time with Sorgei and pick the Russian’s brain.

The other thing he wanted to find out was exactly what Husam al Din meant to do in the Port of Miami. Yes, Josh had cooperated by telling him about port security… but not all. He didn’t tell everything – not the most important things. He revealed just enough to make the Arab believe he was getting the whole story. Just enough to keep myself alive, without giving away the farm, he told himself.

The sound of voices speaking Arabic penetrated the window from outside the front of the house. Josh leaned close and listened. He hoped Husam al Din had neglected to tell the rest of the men in camp that the American soldier was fluent in Arabic. As the men talked, he studied their words. A sudden chill ran the length of his spine, as he heard the message.

“Here is the food. Feed the dog. Husam al Din has taken the weapon. His jihad begins. We will keep these two alive only until we receive word that the mission has succeeded, in case we need to get more information out of them. Then we will take their heads.”

Josh moved away from the window when he heard the hard metallic sound of a key being inserted into a padlock. The door swung open and a plate was set on the floor, then the door slammed shut.