Richard Johnson - Deadly Cargo - A Chilling Naval Terrorism Thriller

Jacob laughed. “Sure, dad.” Then with mock seriousness, “Just don’t let it happen again or you’ll have to spend some time in your room.”

“It’s a deal.” Then Dan’s eyes opened wide and he stood up. “Oops, I better get back out there. The autopilot can steer, but it can’t see what’s up ahead or make life-saving decisions. That’s the job for super-skipper.” He stepped out through the door, called back to his family, “Glad to see you’re all up by the crack of noon.”

“He is such a character,” Nicole told her children.

“He sure is,” Jacob said. “How did you two ever get together? You’re so… um, so normal.”

“Well, just for the record,” Cadee piped in, “I wouldn’t want to have a normal dad. Too boring.”

The sound of his family’s voices drifted through the open cockpit door and Dan’s eyes filled. He sat at the helm and looked up, as if checking the mainsail, but he was looking far beyond the top of the mast. Under his breath he whispered. “Thank you, God. I am such a lucky man.”

Manila, Philippines

“We’ve got numbers.” Susan Vellum held the cell phone close to her head and cupped her other hand over the ear to quiet the noise of the airport. “I finally cracked Alicia Gomez, and I’ve got all I can get here.”

Curt Delamo leaned back in his office chair, tossed his pen onto the desk and smiled. “Finally, something’s going right. So, what did it take? Nothing for the media to wring their hands about, I hope.”

“Nope, just a little heart-to-heart girl talk.” Susan laughed. “I’ll give it all to you later. I’ll be sending across a flashcrypt right after this call, with all the pertinent data. I know this is a secure line, but somehow I still trust flashcrypt more.”

“Fine, I’ll go pick it up. What’s your sense now?”

“I have a package to deliver, if you know what I mean, and I think she’ll be an asset.”

“You want to bring her here?”

“I think she’ll be useful to us if we keep her very close. Besides, she won’t last the night if we leave her here. She knows that. It’s one of the things that convinced her that a long and relatively easy life working for us would be better than the slow and painful razor-and-acid torture and death that waits for her if we leave her behind. Let me tell you, she is more than anxious.”

“So, you kind of went public with her?”

“Only to a few key players. But her gig is over here.”

“When are you leaving? I’m concerned about your safety.”

“Boarding the plane right now, boss. Don’t worry about a thing. Gotta go now.”

“All right, be safe. Call me when you can.” Delamo put the phone back on the cradle and worry lines crept across his forehead.

Susan pushed the button on her cell phone to end the call, then keyed in the code for a flashcrypt and sent an encoded message containing the container description and serial numbers via secure satellite to a receiver in the NIA office in a fraction of a second. Then she closed her cell phone and tucked it inside her purse. Over the airport intercom, the call went out announcing her flight from Manila to Los Angeles. She turned to face the beautiful, dark-haired woman sitting alone in the corner of the waiting area. Somehow, Alicia Gomez didn’t look so dangerous now. In fact, as she stood, her face revealed a hint of fear.

“Don’t worry,” Susan said, taking her by the elbow as if escorting someone who was unable to walk without assistance. “I’ll get you through this.”

“You don’t know these people,” the woman with the auburn hair and green eyes said.

“Well, I don’t think they can reach us now. The airport is secure and once we’re in the air you will have nothing to worry about. Trust me, your future is brighter than if you stayed in this business.”

“I only worked for them because the money was good. For a girl like me, the choice was either that or prostitution. I was good at what I did. But I never really converted to Islam. My grandparents were Catholic. My parents were Catholic, and I am Catholic. It was only for the money.”

“Prostitution probably would have killed less people,” Susan said as they handed their tickets to the woman at the gate, then walked down the enclosed boarding tunnel.

At the door to the plane, Alicia Gomez hesitated. “I think I know that woman,” she whispered to Susan. “I am not certain, but I think I recognize her.”

The airline hostess welcoming passengers into the plane wore a friendly smile and nodded at Susan and Alicia as they approached. “Welcome to Philippine Airlines. Please make yourselves comfortable. We are almost finished boarding and will be taking off in just a few minutes.”

“She looks safe enough to me,” Susan whispered to Alicia.

“Perhaps so. It was only an impression. I just thought her eyes hung on me too long.”

They stepped through the doorway and turned right into the aisle leading to their seats. “Do you mind if I take the a window seat?” Alicia asked. “I will want to bid farewell to my homeland.”

“You got it.” Susan stepped aside and let Alicia seat herself first.

The entry door was shut and latched, and the high-pitched sound of jet engines revving up filled the airplane. An announcement came over the speaker system telling passengers to observe the flight attendants as they demonstrated the seatbelt procedure and other safety information. Susan looked forward and saw the flight attendant who had greeted them at the door. She was saying something into a hand-held radio, and for an instant they made eye contact. A second attendant was making announcements into the intercom microphone and a third held up a sample seatbelt buckle for all the passengers to see. Susan had long since memorized the process, so she buckled up, laid her head back on the seat and closed her eyes.

A sudden crack and the impact of something wet and sharp against her face stunned her. Instinctively, she reached a hand to shield the side of her head, but it was too late. Blood, brain tissue and bone fragments filled her hand. Just before losing consciousness, the last thing Susan saw was that Alicia Gomez had been shot through the head from outside the plane.

The bright orange HH-65A Dolphin helicopter sped across the open ocean at 120 knots for ninety minutes before falling into a circling pattern and lining up for a landing on the platform of a 210-foot WMEC Coast Guard cutter. In addition to carrying out drug interdiction missions, the fast cutter was equipped both for carrying and servicing the short-range helos when they were on extended flights. Even though Yolanda was more than 200 miles to the northwest, the residual wind and waves that followed in her wake for the next day and a half made landing on the moving platform a tricky operation. Winds buffeted the chopper, and the turbulence was like a ride over a very bad stretch of road.

“New Jersey,” Pfister said into his helmet’s mouthpiece.

The two flight crewmembers grinned and nodded agreement, but Josh didn’t understand what he had heard through the helmet earphones. “Why do you say that?”

A smile crossed the Pfister’s face. “Have you ever driven through Jersey City?”

“Ah,” Josh said. “I get it. Are we going to make it down okay?”

“Oh yeah.” Pfister shook his head emphatically. “I told these guys that they better take care of me, or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Trust me, there is even worse duty than Colon. Besides, these guys are the best in the business. They’ll get us down.”

It took two passes, but finally the chopper touched down on the pitching and rolling platform. Two Coasties sprinted from their safe positions and attached tie-downs to the Dolphin, and the rotors slowed and then stopped. With one finger, Josh pushed the mouthpiece up in front of his lips. “Now what?”