Richard Johnson - Deadly Cargo - A Chilling Naval Terrorism Thriller

“I don’t know how much of a terrorist he can be. I checked out his duffel bag while he slept. All he’s got in there is some clothing, his dagger and one of those nice metal flashlights.”

“Maybe he’s part of a bigger operation and he’s just trying to sneak into Miami to join the rest of his group,” Nicole said.

“Could be. But I gave him my word that we wouldn’t try to stop him from reaching Miami. I think I convinced him that he can trust me. That’s the only reason he’s letting us be free to move around the boat. I don’t know what to do.”

Nicole wrapped her arms around Dan and Jacob. “We’ll think of something.”

The satellite phone rang and Josh lifted it to his ear and listened to Curt Delamo.

“Dan and Nicole Plover, ran the Plover Clinic for the Hearing Impaired in Lynnwood, just north of Seattle. He’s 43, she’s 39. Two and a half years ago, they left the clinic in the care of a partner and embarked on a voyage down the west coast, through the Panama Canal and into the Caribbean. After doing the Caribbean for a year, they were going to turn around and head back home.

“The kids, Jacob age 17 and Cadee age 11, are being home schooled through the Viceroy System. Bright kids, from what I see of their grades. Their boat is a 2004 Gemini 105Mc catamaran, thirty-four feet long, fourteen feet wide, and draws eighteen inches with the centerboards up or six feet with them down. She’s white with black trim, the mast height is forty-six feet above the water. Power is a single 27-horsepower Westerbeke diesel married to a Sillette Sonic Drive leg.

“Cruising speed is about seven and a half knots. Fuel capacity is thirty-six gallons divided into two tanks, giving a practical range of 250-plus miles, depending on conditions. Of course, they might be carrying extra fuel in jerry cans. That’s typical of cruising sailors. After this call, I’ll satellite e-mail a floor plan and manufacturer photos, along with the specs.”

“Speaking of satellites, how are we coming with a satellite image so we can find that red and black runabout?”

“We’re moving the bird into position right now. I’m thinking that within half an hour you should be able to receive a tracking image that’s clear enough to read the name on the boat.”

“Once we find her, I’m going to need a way to stop her.”

“Now that Yolanda’s out of the way, we’ve got a carrier moving down into the Yucatan Channel. I’ll send a long-range chopper for you. There’s plenty of firepower on the flattop to stop that runabout.”

“I’m not sure we want to do that. I want to take Husam al Din alive.”

“For interrogation?”

“Exactly. He’s a resource. He may not know who killed Rashid Singh and Alicia Gomez, but he knows other terrorists in al-Qaeda, and who knows where it will lead. We have ways to get that information, and it’s a waste to let it slip away by blowing him off the planet.”

“We need to get our hands on the weapon, too,” Curt added.

“You read my mind. After what I saw on San Luis Miguel—”

“What’s your plan?”

“I’m still working on it. But I need to have you ship me a replacement Glock 26. Mine was destroyed in a Zodiac fire.”

“What?”

“Story for another time, but I don’t want to go in without at least a little firepower. Right now, I’ll get off the line and wait for the e-mail and the satellite tracking image.”

After disconnecting from the call, Josh pulled out his laptop computer and strung a Firewire cable to the satellite phone. Moments later, the e-mail came through and Josh pored over the drawings, photos and specifications while waiting for the satellite images.

He didn’t have to wait long, as a flashing icon notified him of the link. He worked through the menu and suddenly a photo appeared on the monitor. It was a wide overview of the ocean covering a distance of more than a hundred miles to the north of San Luis Miguel. He called up a menu and increased the target selectivity. Several small squares popped onto the screen, each indicating that the satellite was detecting something other than water. Most were far to the east, not the direction he was expecting the red and black boat to head if Husam al Din were trying to get to Miami by the quickest route.

One by one, he selected the squares and zoomed in. When he pulled up the fifth one at a distance of nearly eighty miles and due north of San Luis Miguel, he whispered “Bingo!” and ran the image up to maximum zoom. The high-resolution digital image gave him a clear view of the boat. It appeared to be dead in the water and there was nobody visible in the cockpit or on deck. Switching to infrared mode, he scanned the boat for a heat signature that would indicate someone in the cabin below deck. Nothing. So, what’s an empty boat doing in the middle of nowhere? Especially this boat?

Working fast, he commanded the computer to give him a latitude and longitude, and the numbers came up on the screen. Then he looked at his watch and worked a calculation backward. If the Plovers escaped at 0300 and sailed north at seven and a half knots, and if Husam al Din made his escape the next morning when the pirates opened the container… hmmm. It’s possible. With this boat sitting here empty, it’s possible.

He turned back to the satellite image and shifted the view one quadrant to the north. With an increase of selectivity, a scattering of small squares appeared, and he started the process again, examining each hit, one at a time. There were no catamarans fitting the profile, so he shifted the satellite view another hundred miles north and began again. This time, there was a hit. Near the top of the screen, in the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico, a catamaran was sailing northeast, and it looked identical to the overhead photo Curt had sent him. He zoomed in to maximum, angled the view and read the name, Whisper, on the starboard hull. Right boat, wrong place, if they were heading to Rio Dulce.

At NIA headquarters, Curt answered the phone and listened as Josh explained. “I found Whisper . Husam al Din must be aboard because the Plovers were supposedly heading to Guatemala, and now they’re 200 miles north of where they should be. They’re already north of the Yucatan Peninsula and are heading northeast. They’re making good time toward Miami.”

“Got a plan?”

“We can’t risk showing our hand. If we show up in force, Husam al Din is just crazy enough to activate his device, kill himself and the Plovers and anybody else who is around. I’ve got to get on Whisper . If I can take Husam al Din alive and get the device before he activates it—”

Curt cut him off before he could finish his sentence. “What do you need?”

“Send an Apache chopper for me, and I’ll meet it halfway. I’ll have the Coast Guard HH-65 Dolphin lower me onto the runabout by cable. The Apache’s fast, so have it pick me up there and take me to the carrier. Then I’m going to need to borrow a Needlefish two-man sub and one guy to operate it.”

“The Navy doesn’t operate Needlefish yet. It’s still experimental. There won’t be one on the carrier.”

“Well, I need one. It’s light enough to be slung below a MH-53E Sea Dragon chopper for deployment. Where can you get one?”

“Let’s see,” Curt thought out loud, “I’ll call Pensacola Underwater Experiment Station.”

“Have it delivered to the carrier as fast as you can. And while you’re at it, I need a new set of clothes. These Coast Guard duds remind me too much of the military. There’s stuff in my locker.”

“What happened to your clothes?”

“I burned them along with my Glock in the Zodiac.”