Battlecraft (2006) (16 page)

DHOW
NIJM ZARK

15 OCTOBER

1100 HOURS LOCAL

CAPTAIN Bashar Bashir turned to Mike Assad and Hafez Sabah standing on the small quarterdeck with him. Down below, staying close to the railing, were the two ex-baker apprentices Imran and Ayyub, who were in the final agonies of a shared bout of seasickness that was beginning to ebb away.

"See how the American planes only take a quick look at us and fly away?" Bashir said.

Mike Assad felt homesick at the sight of the United States Navy aircraft. "They do not seem interested."

Sabah nodded his agreement. "Not long ago an American boat crew came aboard to inspect the dhow. They examined Captain Bashir's papers and his cargo hold. They found nothing."

Bashir laughed. "It was a good thing we were coming back from delivering arms instead of carrying a cargo. At any rate, they are under the impression we are no more than an innocent merchant vessel."

"Most fortunate," Mike said.

"But our leadership is not going to take any chances," Sabah said. "Even at this moment a plan is being formed to lure the American boat into a trap and sink it."

"It was a strange boat," Bashir said. "It flew over the water at a very fast speed."

"No amount of speed will save it from the wrath Allah will impart on its infidel crew," Sabah said confidently.

"Attamam
--excellent!" Mike said, thinking he had to get the word out on this very real danger to a U. S. Navy vessel. His first order of business when they returned to Camp Talata would be to get to his dead-letter drop.

.

MIKE
Assad had become a celebrity of the al-Mimkhalif terrorist band after his escape from a supposed period of captivity at the American Embassy in Pakistan. The exploits of his cross-country adventures had been systematically exaggerated with each telling and retelling among the mujahideen. He was no longer thought of as the simple American with more bravado than good sense. Mikael Assad was now regarded as a cunning, clever fighter.

Kumandan, as al-Mimkhalif's field commander, had pulled him from the operational detachment and placed him directly under Hafez Sabah's authority. The American was to work closely with the agent in coordinating the finer details of the group's maritime and smuggling activities. The leader even assigned them the two former apprentice bakers Imran and Ayyub as their personal bodyguards. The two youngsters had been wild with happiness over the honor. When Imran and Ayyub reported to take up their new duties, they swore a solemn
mukaddas
oath on the Koran that they would willingly give up their lives for Mikael and Sabah.

.

NOW
Mike and his companions continued the voyage aboard the old wooden vessel. This was an orientation trip for the American so that he could see firsthand how the arms were passed over to the dhow for delivery to the seer -rendezvous point off the Pakistani coast.

.

1345 HOURS LOCAL

THE
lookout clinging to the top of the main mast suddenly shouted out,
"Hai hi ahi!
The
Jakarta
dead ahead!"

Mike looked in the direction everyone else did and could see nothing for several moments. Then the shadowy figure of a ship could be sighted on the horizon. As the two vessels drew closer, Mike saw that the stranger was a small freighter. After a few more minutes, he could see the ship was not a particularly smart one. Streaks of rust coursed down from the deck to the waterline and the paint on the hull was faded and peeling.

Sabah walked up to stand beside him, speaking in English. "That is the ship we meet to pick up our arms shipments. She is the
Jakarta
from the Greater Sunda Shipping Company. The owner is a miserable sinner by the name of Suhanto. He tried to cheat us a while back. Since he was a thief, we cut off his right hand as dictated in the Koran."

Mike made a mental note of the names Suhanto and the Greater Sunda Shipping Company for his next dispatch. "How do you know when and where to meet this ship?"

"That is information you need not know at this point," Sabah said. "But not to worry. Much will be revealed to you when the time is right."

"I understand," Mike replied.

As the two ships maneuvered for the exchange, Imran and Ayyub took their AK-47s and positioned themselves to cover Mike and Sabah in case of treachery. It took three quarters of an hour before everything was in position and lines held the dhow and freighter close together. Captain Bacharahman Muhamo of the
Jakarta
stood at the rail of his ship looking down at the Arabian vessel.

"Marhaba!"
he called in greeting to Captain Bashir. "How do you fare, old friend?"

"I am well,
shukhar,
" Bashir yelled back. "What do you bring us today?"

"Automatic grenade launchers," Muharno said. "From Spain."

"Did the cowardly Spaniards give them to us out of fear more of their trains would be blown up?" Bashir asked with a cackle.

Muharno shook his head. "La! These were stolen from their garrison in Gibraltar. At least that is what I am told."

"They'll do nothing about this theft," Sabah yelled out as he joined in the conversation. "The Spanish government's fear of the mujahideen is now unlimited."

Mike was familiar with the weapons that were about to be turned over to the terrorist group. During his SEAL career, he'd been introduced to the LAG-40 automatic launchers that fired 40-millimeter high-velocity grenades at a rate of 215 per minute. The deadly missiles were pulled into the receiver for firing on linked belts that could hold up to thirty-two rounds. With a range of 1500 meters, they were a perfect ambush weapon. He glanced up at the freighter captain. "How many launchers you got?"

"A dozen, my friend," Muhamo said. "Who are you? I do not believe I have seen you before."

Sabah interjected, "He is one of our greatest heroes who must remain nameless for the present. We do not wish his presence to be known."

"I understand," the captain said. He turned to check his crew's activity on the deck. "Ah! We are ready to transfer the cargo."

The net holding two crates was pulled from the hold by the crane, and swung over above the deck of the dhow. Mike watched as the transfer of the deadly cargo began.

Chapter 11.

DHOW
NIJM ZARK

PAKISTANI COAST

VICINITY OF 23deg NORTH AND 07deg EAST

16 OCTOBER

1000 HOURS LOCAL

MIKE
Assad had been surprised that their all-night voyage from the rendezvous site with the SS
Jakarta
back to Pakistan had not been discovered by U. S. Navy aircraft. He had mixed feelings about the possibility of being spotted; on the one hand it would keep the lethal automatic grenade launchers out of the hands of terrorists, but his effectiveness as a mole would be ended then and there. He still had plenty to learn about the new operational procedures al-Mimkhalif planned to use for supply deliveries. A second arrest would make any additional "escapes" incredulous to the enemy. That would be a disaster since it was vital that the SEAL find out who the real leaders were behind the organization. When that was discovered, the right people with the right attitudes could eliminate the rag-heads with extreme prejudice.

Now the crates of grenade launchers were being wrestled onto rafts by the dhow's crew. Several men from Camp Talata had brought the floating devices through the gentle surf that washed up almost languidly on the Pakistani beach, rowing them to the side of the dhow. When the cargo was transferred, it would be taken back to the shore for the final trip to the al-Mimkhalif stronghold.

Mike was impressed with the skill of the mujahideen as they deftly handled even the heavy crates, putting them properly aboard the rafts to distribute the weight evenly across the plank decks. This was the first time he had witnessed this phase of the operation. As soon as the job was done, Mike and Hafez Sabah, along with the two former apprentice bakers, jumped aboard one of the rafts for the short voyage to the shoreline.

When the rafts were beached, the Toyota pickups arrived from concealment on a hill that looked down on the scene. Once more it took pure muscle as the weaponry was wrestled up onto the vehicles. When Mike turned to look outward from the beach, he could see that the dhow was already well on its way out to sea. The SEAL was fascinated by the ancient vessel, realizing this type of ship had sailed that area of the world for centuries. It was possible that his own ancestors may have once used the vessels in their long-ago lifetimes.

The sound of shouts broke into his reverie, and he saw it was time to begin the trip up to the camp. He was honored to see that, like Sabah, they had left a place for him in one of the cabs. Imran and Ayyub jumped into the back of a truck with other mujahideen.

.

CAMP TALATA

1445 HOURS LOCAL

KUMANDAN
sat cross-legged on the carpet in his tent, contentedly smoking his hookah water pipe. Mike Assad and Hafez Sabah, similarly seated, faced him. The field commander took a drag and exhaled, then passed the mouthpiece over to Sabah. After his turn, Sabah gave the device to Mike, who treated himself to a shallow drag. As a nonsmoker, he did not inhale, merely taking a mouthful and blowing it out. Kumandan could tell that Mike was not enjoying the pipe, so he politely set the mouthpiece down when the American passed it over to him.

"I have called both of you here for a very pressing matter," Kumandan said. Since the politeness of greetings, a snack and the hookah water pipe had been observed, it was time to get down to business. "Important orders concerning you both have come down from al-Mimkhalif's high command."

"We are honored," Sabah said.

"As well you should be," Kumandan said. "It has been decided that you will be sent on a very special and dangerous assignment. This will involve you in the deepest secrecies of our brotherhood. You are going to visit the heart and soul of al-Mimkhalif."

"Our honor is tripled," Sabah said, deeply moved.

Mike leaned forward in anticipation. He hoped he would have enough time to send the information through his dead-letter drop before being shipped out.

"As of now we are going to place you and your bodyguards away from the others in camp," Kumandan informed them. "You are to move all your belongings into a tent that is even now being erected for your use. Guards will be placed around it on a twenty-four-hour basis, allowing no one but me to speak to you. Your food and water will be brought to you, and a portable latrine will be placed just behind your quarters. Do you have any questions?"

Mike felt a deep stab of disappointment. This situation was exactly like the premission isolation phase of SEAL operations. Now there was no way that he could get word out through the dead-letter drop. He cleared his throat and spoke in his crude Arabic. "Can you tell us where we go?"

"You will not know your destination until you arrive,"

Kumandan said. "Now you must get your things. Do not forget your bodyguards. I shall call upon you at the tent later with more instructions."

Mike and Sabah got to their feet, salaamed, and left the tent.

.

TAIMUR NAVAL BASE, OMAN

18 OCTOBER

1345 HOURS LOCAL

THE
dusty limousine drew nearer to the distant front gate of the base after a monotonous but high-speed nine-hundred-kilometer trip down from the port city of Ras Alhad. The vehicle had been made available from them upon their midnight arrival at the port in the dhow. During the journey, the four passengers in the spacious back of the vehicle--Mike Assad and Hafez Sabah along with bodyguards Imran and Ayyub--had enjoyed air-conditioned comfort. The scenery may have been no more than bleak desert terrain, but the refreshments provided the travelers more than made up for the wearisome countryside. Between restless napping, Mike and Sabah consumed fruit juices, sodas, candy, and pastries. Imran and Ayyub snacked too, but took their bodyguard duties serious enough for both to remain alert and awake at all times.

However, there was one disturbing aspect of the long ride. The quartet of travelers did not know their exact destination when the trip began, and this unexpected arrival at an Oman naval base unnerved Mike to a great extent. The thought occurred to him that he might have been compromised. Perhaps the mysterious entity who picked up his messages at the letter drop had rolled over for al-Mimkhalif. He glanced over at Imran and Ayyub, who sat with their AK-47 assault rifles nearby. Those weapons might end up being used to protect him; or perhaps kill him in a violent act of revenge. Mike turned to Sabah, speaking in English. "Have you been here before?"

"No," Sabah said. "But I know about this place and the man that is supposed to be in command." He suddenly pointed ahead over the driver's shoulder. 'There is the entrance."

The two young naval sentries on duty gave the vehicle and passengers a careful scrutiny, then allowed the limo to continue onto the base. The driver went down a well-paved road for another ten minutes before buildings and dockside structures came into view through the hazy desert air. The ride ended in front of a two-story building where a petty officer opened the door to allow Mike and his companions to disembark.

"Min karib "
the petty officer said, turning and walking toward the building.

The quartet of visitors followed closely, and Mike was more than a little relieved that their escort was not a firing squad. The two bodyguards slung their weapons over their shoulders as the group was led into the edifice and upstairs to an outer office. Evidently they were expected, for a door was being held open for them. Imran and Ayyub stayed outside while Mike and Sabah stepped into an office where an officer, bearing the large gold band of a commodore on his epaulets, stood up.

"Welcome to the Zauba Fast Attack Squadron," the officer said in perfect English, beaming a smile at Sabah. "It is good to see you again, brother."

"The feeling is mutual," Sabah replied. "I did not know whether it would be you greeting us or some other officer."

"You and your friend have been deemed important enough to be brought to me personally."