Jack Terral - Battlecraft (2006)

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GULF OF ADEN

VICINITY OF 13deg NORTH AND 41deg EAST

13 SEPTEMBER

1400 HOURS LOCAL

THE Harbi-min-Islam was hove to less than fifty meters from the Royal Saudi Yacht Sayih , and Commodore Muhammad Mahamat waited while his gig was lowered to the water. After the coxswain and boat hook were situated, Mahamat went nimbly down the netting and took a seat. " Tanruh-- go!"

he commanded, and the boat hook pushed the craft away from the hull as the coxswain eased the throttle forward.

During the short minutes it took to reach the yacht, Mahamat surveyed the vessel appreciatively. Although he had seen her many times, he was always impressed with her striking beauty. The Sayih was a specially designed luxury ship thirty meters in length with a short forward deck, a longer stern deck, and a sleek state-of-the-art superstructure. The latest in radar, navigational, and communication equipment was evidenced by the various antennae showing above the bridge. The numerous portholes belowdecks were the cabins where specially invited passengers stayed. Sheikh Omar Jambarah of Saudi Arabia had private quarters that would rival any deluxe hotel suite in the world. All this on an oceangoing vessel.

This penchant for hedonism displayed by the sheikh confused Commodore Mahamat. Although the sheikh was closely associated with the Saudi royal family, he indulged in many decadent traits of the infidel West. The commodore excused this conduct, assuming that the sheikh was using this misbehavior as a cover. After all, he was the supreme commander of al-Mimkhalif--the Warriors of Fury--and such a lifestyle would confuse outsiders and infidels.

When the gig reached the accommodation ladder, the boat hook deftly tossed a line to the sailor waiting there. The coxswain slowed the engine, hit reverse, then moved into neutral as he came to a stop at just the right spot for the commodore to step easily onto the platform. Mahamat hurried up to the main deck, where he was met by a trio of tough, professional bodyguards. These were large muscular men totally dedicated to the sheikh's well-being. They were never addressed by their real names, instead being called Alif, Baa, and Taa, the first three letters of the Arabic alphabet.

Even the august person of Commodore Mahamat was not above a search by the three hard-core thugs. He submitted to the indignity, then was escorted toward the stern deck, where his host awaited his arrival.

The stern had a canvas cover rigged across that entire section of deck to keep off the sun. In actuality, the area was an outdoor drinking and eating patio lounge. A trio of waiters was available to attend to the guests, while a wet bar complete with an attendant was situated forward by the companionway. Numerous tables and chairs occupied the middle of the area, and a special place with comfortably padded chaise lounges was situated on the extreme stern. This latter area was where Sheikh Omar sat comfortably in bathing trunks and deck shoes.

Mahamat immediately noticed the number of thong-clad women with bare breasts who occupied the chairs. All were European and were either blondes or redheads. The commodore treated his eyes to the lovely, evil temptation for just a moment before he walked to the sheikh and bowed. "Marhaba --greetings, Sheikh Omar."

"And to you I offer marhaba , Commodore. Welcome aboard," the sheikh replied, pushing the leggy Russian blonde off his lap and dismissing her with a curt gesture. "I thank you for responding so quickly to my summons."

"It was my pleasure to obey, Sheikh Omar."

"Please sit down."

As Mahamat settled down on a lounge, a waiter appeared with a tray bearing a glass of pineapple juice. As Muslims, neither the sheikh nor the commodore would consume alcohol, though the women were freely tossing back various types of cocktails. The sheikh preferred them to be a bit tipsy when he wished to engage in his version of rough sex. It was easier for both him and whichever well-paid strumpet he had chosen for his playmate.

"Am I to understand al-Mimkhalif's new supply procedures have been put into place?" the commodore asked, taking a sip of his juice.

"Yes!" the sheikh said enthusiastically. 'Thus, we will not be required to employ the Zauba Squadron to right the shipping situation at this time." He was a large, heavy man with a good deal of body hair. His beard was neatly trimmed and his thinning hair was skillfully bartered to make it look as thick as possible. 'That is exactly why I had to speak with you. There remains the possibility you may eventually provide protection with your squadron as we establish the new routines and methods of delivery and pickup. There are always glitches--as the Americans say--in such activities."

"The Zauba Fast Attack Squadron is at your service," Commodore Mahamat assured him.

"Nishkur Allah --thank God!" the sheikh said. "Our main problem will be treachery from the owner of the miserable shipping line we have hired."

"What problem might we have with him?"

'The man is an immoral narcotics smuggler," the sheikh explained. "He is a fallen Muslim and exceedingly unreliable to the point we must control him with threats. We feel he will betray or deceive us at the first opportunity."

"Was there not a better choice?" the commodore asked.

"Unfortunately, there was not," the sheikh replied. "It would have been impossible to bring a legitimate firm under our influence if it were owned by a Muslim. However, he is not our only problem. The area he must ship our arms through is patrolled by the Philippine, Indonesian, Singaporean, Indian, and Pakistani navies. The United States also has a carrier force in the vicinity, but the battle group now on duty does not have the capability of coastal patrols." He chuckled. "One of my half brothers is good friends with an Undersecretary of the Navy in Washington. He always has useful tidbits of intelligence to pass on to me."

"That is indeed an advantage," Mahamat said. "If we have any encounters with war vessels, my squadron will be able to mount an instant devastating attack and destroy them, Allah willing " He paused. 'The only essential thing, Sheikh Omar, is that we must be close by our transport vehicles to be able to effectively defend our interests."

"We have considered that," the sheikh said. "You will be apprised of the exact times and routes of each delivery so you can maintain an eye on the situation."

"My ships would have to be near enough to be in sight," Commodore Mahamat pointed out. "Would that not compromise security if we are seen by foreign warships?"

"We have taken that into consideration too," the sheikh said. "An agent from al-Mimkhalif will accompany each shipment. If there are any difficulties, he will be able to raise you by radio. Your speedy vessels may then make timely appearances and rectify any difficulties."

"Who is this agent?" Mahamat inquired.

"Someone you know," the sheikh said, smiling. "Hafez Sabah. He is a countryman of yours, lae?"

"An excellent man!" Mahamat commented.

The conversation was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of a tall blond German woman. She stood half-naked, wearing a thin bikini without shame in front of the two men whose own women were veiled and literally covered from head to toe with the traditional burka. The sheikh frowned angrily. "What is it you wish, Hildegard?"

"I cannot find my friend Franziska."

The sheikh shrugged. "She is not on board for this trip."

"Yes, she is!" Hildegard insisted. "I saw her come out on the boat with Olga and Adelaida."

"Then she must have gotten off before we sailed," the sheikh said.

"Olga and Adlaida said she did not get off," Hildegard insisted.

The sheikh stood up. "I told you Franziska is not on board. Now get back with the others! You have interrupted me in an important meeting."