Christopher Nuttall - A Learning Experience

He knew, all too well, that they could easily come true.

New York, USA

The break came forty minutes after the terrorists were identified. A vehicle fire had been reported in downtown New York, but largely ignored in the wake of the bombings. However, when it became clear that a white van had been deliberately set on fire, Jürgen became very interested indeed. Further checks revealed that the vehicle had been carefully parked out of sight of any CCTV cameras, ensuring that there was no footage of the van or whatever vehicle the arsonists had used to make their escape.

But that wouldn’t stop him from identifying the vehicle.

He carefully went through all the records, working out the timing piece by piece. Logically, the terrorists would have left a timer on the van to ensure they had time to make their escape, but it would be a risky move. An abandoned van would attract attention, particularly now. It suggested that the terrorists had departed maybe five to ten minutes before the van caught fire, which meant… he went through the records and identified a number of suspect vehicles, then set the system to backtracking them through New York. Three of them vanished off the grid, but the fourth had gone directly to a shipping company.

Clever , he thought. The airports might be closed, the roads might be blocked, but it was much harder to stop and search even a small container ship. One of the many nightmares plaguing the Department of Homeland Security was a terrorist smuggling in a nuclear bomb in a shipping container, secure in the knowledge that even the best detection systems would be unlikely to pick up any traces of radioactivity. And this time the container ship was heading out of the country, back to Greece.

It would not normally have attracted much attention, he knew. Greece wasn’t on the list of countries to be viewed with deep suspicion, even though it was alarmingly close to North Africa and the Middle East. The ship might meet up with another ship during its voyage or simply move the container onwards when it reached Athens. And it wouldn’t be noticeable unless the ship was searched from end to end.

He cursed under his breath as he realised the ship was already on her way out to sea. They’d clearly planned it for quite some time, assuming he was right. The ship wasn’t leaving urgently, she had been scheduled to depart on this precise day for several weeks. There was simply nothing, other than a minor mistake, to use to identify her as a potential suspect.

Shaking his head, he reached for the phone. The Coast Guard would have to intercept the ship and escort her back into harbour, where she could be searched thoroughly . There would be complaints, he knew, and probably genuine ones too. Holding a ship long enough to be searched would be immensely costly to the shipping company. Ships simply didn’t make money when they were at anchor. But there was no alternative.

Besides, there were no other leads to follow.

“Sleeper agents, it looks like,” Mongo said. He’d been following the progress of the interrogations, but they’d yielded little of interest. “People who blended so well into our society that they remained well below the radar.”

Steve nodded, feeling cold rage replaced with icy determination. The brothers had been model immigrants, pretty much. They paid taxes, took part in community activities and never went to any of the more dubious mosques. Hell, from what the youngest brother’s American wife was saying, they never prayed at all. But it had all been a lie. They’d waited until they received their orders, then moved into action.

And they carried it off flawlessly , he thought, bitterly. Damn bastards .

He looked down at the reports. Iran was probably the prime suspect, either out of a desire for revenge — he’d given Israel the laser defence system, after all — or out of a desire to influence the off-world development of space. The Iranians had a long history of training insurgents and sleeper agents, as well as meddling in Middle Eastern affairs and trying to undermine their rival governments. But they weren’t the only suspects. The remains of the Taliban had good reason to want to hurt him, while the oil monarchies of the Middle East hated his guts. They’d spent billions of dollars at the UN, trying desperately to prevent the introduction of fusion technology. And they’d failed.

“Got something,” Mongo said. “A Greek ship — the Karaboudjan — may well be their getaway vessel.”

“Show me,” Steve ordered.

He looked at the image from the drone, then scowled. The Karaboudjan was a medium-sized freighter, large enough to carry hundreds of shipping containers. He remembered some of the rumours about the Al Qaeda Navy and shuddered, inwardly. Had New York been clutching one of those vipers to its bosom? Or had the Karaboudjan been serving as a perfectly innocent freighter up until now?

“The Coast Guard is calling for military assistance,” Mongo said. “I believe they’re putting together a team of SEALs now.”

Steve shook his head. “Tell them we want to scan the vessel first,” he said. “And if she’s on it, we can get her back quicker than them.”

He had no illusions about what orders the terrorists would have in the event of capture. If there was a strong risk of falling into enemy hands, they would first kill their captive and then kill themselves. Ideally, he knew, they would have to stun the terrorists, then sort out the mess afterwards. But if Mariko wasn’t onboard the ship, he didn’t want to attack it and cause another major incident. There would be enough repercussions from destroying the terrorist network and the country backing them.

Slowly, the nanotech drones started to search the vessel, their reports building up a holographic diagram in front of Steve. As far as he could tell, most of the crew seemed European and there were even a handful of women, something very unusual for a terrorist ship. But then, it could just be cover. If the vast majority of the crew were unaware of their ship’s true purpose, it would be harder to find someone willing and able to betray the rest of their comrades.

“Here,” Mongo said. “Those guys don’t look like shippers.”

Steve couldn’t disagree. The six men in a lower room looked more like soldiers than sailors, although they were wearing civilian clothes. A quick check revealed that they had a small arsenal with them, enough weapons to stand off pirates or a commando offensive. Mongo checked the records and noted that the Karaboudjan often went near the east coast of Africa, where the pirates occasionally came out to prey on Western shipping. Armed guards and a willingness to shoot one’s way out of trouble were often the only true barrier to pirate attack.

“Soldiers or terrorists,” he mused. “Probably trained soldiers. Do we have any records of them?”

“They’re listed as armed guards from a Greek company, but nothing past that,” Mongo said. “Kevin would probably be able to dig up more information.”

“Probably,” Steve agreed. He watched as the drones started to enter the containers, rapidly scanning the contents. Most of them held pieces of technology or clothing that couldn’t be found in Greece these days, from what he’d read online. Others were completely empty, something that puzzled him. Surely empty crates were inefficient? Or was more coming out of Greece than going into the country? “I…”

He swore as one of the drones reported back, after entering yet another container. “Got her,” he said. “She’s there!”

Mongo peered over his shoulder as other drones converged on the container. Inside, Mariko was lying against one wall, her hand cuffed to the metal. Three men, two of them sleeping, were sharing the container; Steve felt his teeth clench in rage as he realised just how helpless his partner was, if one of her captors decided to have some fun. She wasn’t a soldier, not even a combat medic. And she had never learnt to fight with her bare hands.