Battlecraft (2006) (27 page)

FORTRESS MIKNBAYI

NOON LOCAL

SHEIKH
Omar Jambarah, Kumandan, and Hafez Sabah had just finished a Western-style lunch of grilled-cheese sandwiches, potato chips, and Coca-Cola in the sheikh's office. An air of seriousness hung over the trio, who had been busy formulating the preliminary plans to get al-Mimkhalif back on its feet.

"I do not wish to change the subject, but there has been something in the back of my mind for several days now," the sheikh said. "What has happened to Mikael Assad?"

Hafez Sabah had a view on the subject. "To tell you the truth, I am not sure exactly how smart or dull-witted Mikael really is."

"I am wondering about that too," Kumandan said. "I recall that when he first came to Camp Talata, he appeared to be quite slow. He stumbled with his Arabic lessons and did not impress anybody with any great show of intelligence."

"Perhaps he appeared to be not too bright because of the way he spoke our language," the sheikh suggested. "I conversed with him in English, and while he did not give the impression of having a university education, he seemed to be a clever fellow."

"I will concede him that," Kumandan said. "It was very cunning the way he escaped from the American Embassy. We know that as a fact."

"Mmm," Sabah said with a nod of his head. "Could it be that he was a spy for the CIA?"

"We have irrefutable evidence that he was recruited in a mosque in Buffalo, New York," Kumandan said. "He arrived in camp with several other men who had been there with him. And the letter from the cleric had his name in it."

"There is another thing," Sabah said. "If he were a spy and wanted to escape from here, why would he take the German woman? She would be a burden to him."

"He was a young man raised in America," the sheikh said. "His physical wants got the best of him. One of the women on the yacht said the German told her they were going to sneak away on a picnic. Odds are that after they took the boat, something untoward occurred since he could not handle it properly. They may have drowned."

"Well," Kumandan remarked, "we'll have to forget Mikael Assad for the time being."

"I agree," the sheikh said. "I do have some good news at last. I received word via the communications center that
fif
teen million dollars from my sheikhdom treasury is being laundered through Saudi banks even as we sit here. The high price of oil is providing great benefits to our cause."

"Ajib!"
Sabah exclaimed. 'Things are not so bad! Fortress Mikhbayi is a strong place with a force of loyal and well-armed men. This is the perfect haven while we reorganize and restart al-Mimkhalif."

"However, we are at risk," Kumandan said. "The women on the yacht are a threat." His outspokenness came to the fore and he glared at the sheikh. "You are a fornicator! It is written in the Holy Koran that one must not go into fornication. It is an indecency and an evil way. Al-Mimkhalif might be punished for your sins. It is also written that the fornicator should receive a hundred stripes of the whip. This is found in the Holy Koran."

Sheikh Omar was only barely able to contain his fury at the bold insolence. "And who will scourge me with a hundred stripes?"

"Renounce your ways and Allah will forgive you," Kumandan said. "And He will bless our jihad for Islam. The women on the yacht must die."

Sabah summoned the courage to say, "I agree, Sheikh Omar. You must atone for you sins. I asked my cleric if I sinned when I took one of the women. He said I could go to Hell, but since I was not sure if it was a sin with an infidel woman and was truly sorry, that Allah would grant me pardon."

The sheikh took a deep breath and was thoughtful for several moments before speaking. "Very well. I will see to it that they are poisoned. Their corpses shall be taken out and fed to the sharks of the Indian Ocean."

.

WASHINGTON, D. C.

THE STATE DEPARTMENT

1 NOVEMBER

0900
HOURS LOCAL

HUSAAM
Sakit, a special envoy from the Sultanate of Oman, glared incredulously over the desk at his host, Carl Joplin, Ph. D. This American Undersecretary of State had just given him some information that was completely illogical and unbelievable. Such a thing could not possible be true!

"All the money for the Zauba Fast Attack Squadron was funneled through the Wusikh Marahid Bank in Riyadh," Joplin had said. The African-American career diplomat referred to his notes as he continued. "The flagship called the
Harbi-min-Islam
and the Swedish attack boats were financed through that same account."

'This cannot be!" Sakit insisted. "The Oman Navy has no such units. The naval squadron at the Taimur Naval Base is no more than a few secondhand British coastal patrol boats. Their objective is to stop smugglers. Modem attack boats are not needed when one's adversaries are no more than wooden dhows propelled by wind and old engines."

"I suggest you investigate Taimur" Joplin said coldly. "You will find a modem naval base and as I mentioned, a flagship which is a British
Province-
class missile vessel." He cleared his throat. "Ahem! And you'll also discover a few overpaid officers and sailors as well. They and their families enjoy an excellent standard of living far beyond that of the rest of your nation's armed forces."

"If what you tell me is true, then Captain Mahamat, who commands, will be in serious trouble."

"Captain Mahamat evidently promoted himself to the rank of commodore sometime ago," Joplin informed him. "But you will not find him there. He was executed at the headquarters of al-Mimkhalif for losing a battle with an American vessel. A beheading, I have been informed. At any rate, they did shoot down two American F/A-18 Hornet aircraft and attacked a hovercraft of the United States Navy. All our protests will be kept under wraps and the President of the United States will not call in the Oman ambassador. But please inform His Excellency that we expect the situation at the Taimur Naval Base to be rectified. You should also let him know that all this information has now been supplied to other international intelligence agencies. Thank you."

Still confused and mentally reeling, the Oman envoy got unsteadily to his feet and walked slowly to the door.

.

1030
HOURS LOCAL

DR. CARL JOPLIN
slowly drank a cup of coffee as he waited for his next caller. He had made notes of his meeting with Husaam Sakit from the Sultanate of Oman, organizing them into a file on the Zauba Fast Attack Squadron. This was now an official document of the State Department.

A slight rapping on the door caught his attention, and his aide, Durwood Cooper, stepped into the office. "The Saudi envoy is in the outer officer, Dr. Joplin."

"Did they send Hasidi as I requested, Dur?"

"Yes, sir," Cooper answered.

"Great!" Joplin said. "I'm looking forward to a chat with him."

Cooper went to the door, opening it to admit Jaabit Hasidi. The Saudi was a large, corpulent man with a short-cropped beard. His bald head reflected the overhead fluorescent lights as he walked into the office. He showed a half smile, saying, "What can I do for you today, Dr. Joplin?"

Joplin didn't bother going through a useless shaking of hands. "Sit down, Mr. Hasidi." He waited until the large man had wiggled himself in between the arms of the chair designed for normal-sized people. Joplin had chosen the piece of furniture so his caller would be physically uncomfortable. This was one of those times when it didn't pay to be a congenial host. Joplin began his presentation, stating, "I am representing the President of the United States on a grave matter. It is so serious that you may consider this a protest, although the details of it will not be released to the public nor sent through international channels."

Hasidi sighed. "We are not going to discuss the exaggerated subject of teaching hate of the West in our schools, are we? I believe we have already--"

Joplin interrupted in a most undiplomatic manner. "I am not offering you a game of three guesses, Mr. Hasidi. I have a statement. May I continue? Thank you. The government of the United States objects to the overt aggression brought against our armed forces through the direction of a Saudi citizen. The gentleman of whom I speak is Sheikh Omar Jambarah, who is heading up the al-Mimkhalif terrorists using the nom de guerre Husan."

'This is preposterous," Hasidi said. "I personally know Sheikh Omar. He is from an old desert clan that has shown great loyalty and respect to our royal family."

"He is financing an Oman naval squadron to carry out war at sea for al-Mimkhalif. The sheikh is also brazenly maintaining a headquarters base and various camps for al-Mimkhalif. He has suffered a setback and now he sits in a fortress on the border between Yemen and Oman, licking his wounds."

Hasidi held up his hands in a gesture of astonishment. "Why do you Americans insist we Saudis are your enemies? The kingdom is among the staunchest and truest friends your great republic has."

Joplin continued to ignore the protests. "The President of the United States expects King Fahd to take appropriate action to put an end to this outrageous activity."

"How can His Majesty take action against a phantom program that does not exist?" Hasidi asked.

"I shall report to the President that the Saudi government rejects his protests and warnings," Joplin said. 'This leaves him no alternative but to see that appropriate actions are taken. Thank you, Mr. Hasidi. Good day."

"Good day to you, Dr. Joplin," Hasidi said struggling from the chair to his feet. "My fervent hope is that the President of the United States acts prudently and cautiously, lest this situation gets out of hand. That is my advice to him."

'The President wouldn't be interested in your counsel," Joplin said.

.

USS
DAN DALY

2 NOVEMBER

1000 HOURS LOCAL

BRANNIGAN'S
Brigands and the two crewmen, Paul Watkins and Bobby Lee Atwill, stood at attention as the skipper, Commander Tom Carey, and Lieutenants (JG) Jim Cruiser and Veronica Rivers came into the ready room.

"At ease!" Brannigan commanded. "Take your seats." He waited until everyone had settled down. "All right, here's the skinny for this morning's pleasant little get-together. We're going out to commit some felonies on a mission called Operation Whup Ass."

"Haw!" Bruno Puglisi laughed. "Who named it
that?"

"I did!" Brannigan snapped. "What's the matter? Don't you like it?"

"I love it, sir," Puglisi said, grinning weakly. "Whup Ass is a beautiful name. It sort of tugs at my heartstrings."

"I'm glad you're so crazy about the name, Puglisi," Brannigan said, shifting his attention back to the others in the room. "Now as I was saying, we're going to commit outrageous atrocities and numerous unmentionable acts."

Chad Murchison raised his hand. "What flagitious deeds are we going to perpetrate, sir?"

"Mainly kidnapping," Brannigan said. "Our mission will be to break into a terrorist stronghold called Fortress Mikhbayi and kidnap three individuals; namely, a sheikh, his field commander, and a crafty agent at large. Last night we acquired some satellite photographs of the installation. These are pics that have been around a while. No one took any special notice of them, thinking they showed no more than an unremarkable naval facility."

Mike Assad looked at his buddies. "It's a hell of a lot more than that, guys."

"Right," Brannigan said. "Petty Officer Assad has brought back intelligence that reveals this is no less than the supreme headquarters of al-Mimkhalif. He has given us enough information to get in and out of the place with the least amount of fuss and bother. Therefore, we are able to draw up a rock-solid OPORD. Everything fits so well that we're not going to bother with a preliminary OPLAN. The infiltration and exfiltration phases are the responsibility of Commander Carey. I'll let him explain those parts of the action before we get into the execution portion of the evening's activities."

Commander Carey stepped up to the podium. "It will be a parachute infiltration with T-
10
s by the raiding party. They will go into the AO in a V-22 Osprey we're borrowing from the nearby carrier bat
tl
e group."

"Sir" Senior Chief Dawkins said, "who of us is going to be in the raider party?"

'The First Assault Section and Fire Team Charlie along with the Second Assault Section's SAW gunner," Carey replied.

The senior chief glowered. "Does that include me?"

"Negative, Chief," Carey answered. "You will be acting as Lieutenant Rivers' Two-I-C aboard the
Battlecraft."

"Aye, sir," Dawkins growled in acute disappointment.

"Now," Carey said, "back to the raider party. Petty Officer Frank Gomez will be going in with Lieutenant Brannigan as the RTO. We've acquired an excellent AN/PRC-148 radio with handset so the raider party will have commo with both the
Dan Daly
and the
Battlecraft
. It's been decided to pull Petty Officer Leibowitz from Bravo Fire Team and put him with Petty Officer Assad. They will be the raider party recon."

"Ah!" Chad Murchison said. 'The Odd Couple sallies forth yet again."

Doc Bradley stood up. "Sir! Where do I fit into the picture?"

"You'll be with Lieutenant Rivers and the two crewmen of the ACV along with Fire Team Delta on the ACV," Carey answered. "You people will handle the exfiltration. I'll get to that later." He went to the wall, where two large sheets of paper were pinned up. He pulled one down, revealing a satellite photo of the operational area. "Your drop zone will be five kilometers to the west of the fortress. Here. The raiding party will then move to the target area, sneak over the wall, and go to the officers' compound to search out and capture the 'persons of interest' as the cops back home say. Petty Officer Assad knows the place like the back of his hand and will be in the forefront with his buddy Leibowitz."

Bruno Puglisi grinned. "Hey, Mike. Don't forget to take us to that harem you told us about."

"Knock it off!"
Senior Chief Dawkins roared.

Commander Carey chuckled. "Do not--I say again--
do not
exit the target area with any female captives. This is
not
authorized."

A collective groan went up among the assembled SEALs.

"All right," Carey said. "Once you have those persons of interest in hand, you will proceed to the docking area, where the ACV will appear. This is going to be the hairiest part of the whole evening, gentlemen. The
Battlecraft
is a beautiful vessel, but she's louder than a grizzly bear with a toothache. Although you're going to be heavily outnumbered, you'll have both surprise and the total unpreparedness of the garrison working in your favor. Be fast, be efficient, and be at the right place at the right time. When you're aboard the
Battlecraft,
you'll be able to haul ass at ninety per."

"What are the times of all these different phases, sir?" Chief Matt Gunnarson asked.

'That's going to be worked out later," Carey answered. "In fact, it's something you guys are going to figure out together. And that includes the exact date of when this event goes down."

Brannigan took over. "Okay. Save any further questions for when we're brainstorming together to bring everything into focus. We've got a lot of work to do while Commander Carey is making his final coordination for transport and logistics. Assad has drawn a diagram of the interior of the officers' quarters of the fortress. We'll use that to work out a plan of action to get the main players."

Garth Redhawk raised his hand. "Is ever'body we're after in the same place?"

"Affirmative," Brannigan answered. He looked over at Dawkins. "Senior Chief! Take over and move the detachment down to the pilots' wardroom. We'll have more room to work up there."

"Aye, sir!" Dawkins responded. "All right, me hearties, you know where you're going. Get there!"

The SEALs got to their feet and filed out, their minds already filled with all the possibilities, probabilities, and potential catastrophes and/or glories of their immediate future.

.