Richard Johnson - Deadly Cargo - A Chilling Naval Terrorism Thriller

“Have I been retired while I wasn’t looking? Did somebody put you in command of my Coast Guard? Let me tell you something mister,” – he pointed his finger at Josh’s chest, and Josh backed up – “this is my C-130, that’s my chopper and my cutter and my men. And, quite frankly, Mr Adams, I don’t like people, especially civilians, giving me orders and asking me if that’s clear. Is that clear?”

Josh looked away, exhaled and gathered his thoughts. His voice was low, when he spoke. “Yeah, sorry. I got carried away. I understand the military chain of command and protocol. It’s just that I’ve been chasing this guy halfway around the world.” The tone and strength of his voice grew, and his eyes cut a hole in Pfister. “You don’t know what’s going on, but trust me, this is probably the most dangerous situation the United States has ever faced.” He gritted his teeth, leaned in close to Pfister and snarled, “So forgive the hell out of me if I get a little excited. Okay?”

The two men stared at each other for a moment, and Pfister knew the ball was back in his court. Finally, his upper body began to rock and his head nodded very slightly. “Yeah, I’ll forgive the hell out of you. After all, you’re the one who’s going to have to face whatever is down there. So I guess you can be forgiven for losing it once.” He pressed toward Josh until their noses almost touched, tightened his jaw and growled, “But, mister, you’ve had your once.” The captain stood up and left the room. Josh looked at the two crewmen. Both were wearing grins.

“Touchy,” Josh said.

“Mister,” the computer operator answered, “consider yourself lucky. The old man doesn’t like new dogs trying to mark his territory. Meaning no disrespect, sir.”

“None taken.”

Josh closed the door behind him and returned to his seat by the window across from Pfister. For the next hour, neither man spoke. Josh sat looking out the window, trying to imagine what he was going to find when he got on the ground at San Luis Miguel. Pfister seemed to have lost himself in paperwork as he sat making notes on a clipboard and occasionally going forward to relay messages to the pilot that he apparently didn’t want Josh to hear. It was the longest hour Josh could remember, but finally the landing gear touched down and the plane taxied to the terminal.

“The chopper is waiting,” Pfister finally spoke, but his words were cold. “You’ll have two stops on the way out, the first for refueling and the second will be the Victory. They’ll still be many hours from the island, when you arrive.” Then, without offering a handshake, the captain turned on his heels and walked away.

Josh grabbed his flight bag and was met by a crewman from the chopper who led him aboard. At 2330 hours, Josh stepped out of the chopper onto the landing pad of the 270-foot WMEC Victory .

“We’re three and a half hours out, sir,” the crewman said. “Do you want to get some shuteye before we make landfall?”

No matter how much adrenaline was coursing through his veins, Josh had to admit that he was tired. “Sure. Lead the way.” He followed into the sleeping quarters and was shown a narrow steel bunk.

“Sorry, sir, this is all we have,” the crewman said.

“It’ll do just fine. I’ve slept in a lot worse places, believe me.” He tossed his flight bag onto the foot of the mattress, removed shoes and socks, stripped off his shirt and pants and crawled into the bottom bunk. It was too hot for covers, so he just turned his face to the wall to hide from the red night vision light and closed his eyes.

A puff of warm breath raised the hair on the back of his neck, but before he had a chance to turn, he felt soft arms wrap around him and then Susan whispered, “Josh, be careful. I love you.”

The next thing he knew, someone was shaking him awake. “It’s time, sir.”

A thunderous pain pulsed in Dan Plover’s head, as consciousness started to return. At first, everything was a blur that faded in and out of double vision, then finally began to clear, but his brain shut down again and he closed his eyes. His world rolled over in a dizzy spin and he couldn’t quite remember what happened. In the darkness and the whirl, he forced the thoughts to come. I was talking with Nicole, and… Then it slowly flooded back. The man with the thick black beard, the one who asked for gasoline… Yeah, it was coming to him. His eyes opened again and this time, as his vision cleared, he saw the bearded man, and he was holding a dagger to Nicole’s throat.

“You will do exactly as I say, or I will slit her throat.” There was no emotion in the man’s voice. For all appearances, he was not the least bit excited or worried. It was all just a matter of simple fact: if Dan did anything wrong, Nicole would die, and there was no question about it.

“What is it you want?” Dan asked from his position on the floor, afraid to move enough even to sit up.

“You will take me where I want to go.” He pulled Nicole’s head back and pressed the blade deeply against her neck.

“Whoa,” Dan yelled, “hold on there, mister. No need to get excited. I’ll take you where you want to go. Just back off with that knife a little. There’s no reason to hurt anybody here.”

Husam al Din eased the blade from Nicole’s throat, but held her head back tightly into his chest and the dagger was still only a breath away. “You will take me to Miami.”

“Okay,” Dan said, “I can do that. But it’s several days away from here at the speed we are able to travel. If you want to get there, we can’t sit here like this the whole trip.” He glanced around the main salon, but from where he lay on the floor of the starboard hull, he couldn’t see if Jacob and Cadee were there.

“You have children on this boat.”

It was a statement, not a question, and Dan wondered how the man knew about the kids if they weren’t in the main salon. “I can smell them,” he answered the unasked question. “I want them out here, right now, in front of me so they can see the danger their mother is in. Then they will know that if they don’t do exactly as they are told, their mother will die.”

“Jacob… Cadee,” Dan called, not wanting to display any hesitation before this madman. “Come here, please. Don’t make any sudden moves.”

From the port aft cabin Jacob emerged, and the sound made Husam al Din whirl around, the blade still at Nicole’s throat.

Cadee came down from the forward stateroom and saw her dad lying on the floor. “Dad,” she cried out, “are you okay?”

“I’m okay, sweetie. This man has taken us hostage and is demanding that we take him to Miami. We are going to do exactly as he tells us, or he says he’ll kill mom.”

“It is not just that I say I will kill her,” Husam al Din snarled, “I will kill her. And after that, I will kill you,” – he pointed the dagger at Jacob – “and then I will kill you,” – he aimed the blade at Cadee. “You,” – he looked at Dan – “I will keep alive, because I need you to sail me to Miami. You will do it. How many members of your family die along the way is up to you.”

Dan held up one hand. “Well, just relax. I’ll take you to Miami, but…” he lowered his eyelids half way and stared at the man, “…I’ll tell you something. If you kill any one of us, this voyage is over. You’ll have to kill me, because I’ll be on you like ants on a picnic and I won’t stop until either you or I are dead.” He looked at Cadee and then at Jacob, “Kids, if that happens, you go overboard. Your mom and I will see you beyond the veil. We’re a forever family and we’ll be there waiting for you. I promise you that.”