Syren's Song (19 page)

As he turned to suggest that the team move out, a hair-raising howl issued from the mine tunnels behind him.

“Mother of God,” Warren gasped. “What was that?”

“Probably just the wind,” Stark said uncertainly. But there was no wind. They hadn't felt so much as a breeze since they'd landed on the coast. He turned and drew his weapon. The haunting, ghostlike wail intensified. “Any chance there's a second entrance to this mine?” he whispered to Warren, who shook his head.

“Not in a cheap operation like this.”

Golzari joined Stark, his own rifle raised. The howling was approaching the entrance now, becoming clearer and louder. Stark realized he was hearing more than one voice.
What kind of animal makes a noise like that? Are there wolves in Sri Lanka?

A small, shrieking shape burst through the mine entrance. Stark was about to fire when he realized what he was seeing. The first child raced out into Jay's giant bear hug. Two more followed. All looked like they had just escaped from hell. Melanie grabbed the second child, and Stark dropped his weapon and scooped up the third. The children stopped screaming and started talking when they realized they had not run into the arms of Tamil soldiers, but Stark and the others couldn't understand them. Warren tapped his smart phone, said a few words, then hit another key, and his words, translated into Tamil, spoke from the phone to the startled children.

“Jay, ask them if there are any other children in the cave,” Stark said.

Through the translator, the first child was able to convey that there were seven more in the mine, where they had taken shelter when the soldiers massacred the monks. Stark grabbed a headlamp from his pack.

“How far back are they, Jay?”

“He said as far back as they could go, but they were worried about being lost.”

“Nothing more specific?” Stark asked.

“No. And I don't think the kids are likely to go back with you to show you.”

“Stark,” Golzari said. “This could take a while. How much longer do you think we have before more Tigers arrive?”

“I'm sorry, Damien, but we can't leave them down there—especially if the Tigers are going to return. You stay here. If they do come back, hold them off if there's a few of them. If there are more, just get out of here. Jay, you keep those three kids close to you.”

As he walked into the entrance, Melanie pulled a flashlight from her pack and walked behind him. “I'm coming, too,” she said.

Within minutes Stark began to feel claustrophobic. His breathing became labored, and he broke out in a cold sweat. He hadn't prepared for this. He could
see the frayed wire tying the primitive lights together, but the wires had been severed, probably during the explosion he had seen on the UAV image. There was no noise except his own beating heart and Melanie's footsteps. Every few minutes they called out. There was no response.

The tunnels were wide enough for a couple of people to walk abreast, but the wooden planks holding up the ceiling and sides were falling apart. The deeper they went, the more dangerous it became. They arrived at the first transfer station between two of the tunnels. He realized that without his headlamp and her flashlight they would be blind and helpless. His hand began to shake again and he considered turning back. But seven children would die if he did.

Melanie took the lead and called out. Perhaps it was her voice—a woman's—that made them brave, but she and Stark heard a whimper down one of the tunnel branches. They arrived to find six children huddled together. Nearby lay the body of the seventh; already frail when he entered the mine, the trauma of the past two days had been simply too much for him to survive.

They spoke calmly to the children, who shielded their eyes from the painful light shining from Stark's forehead. He took one child's hand and then another's. Melanie gathered the rest in front of her and they brought the little ones out of hell.

Stark hadn't wanted to start the trek down the mountain at night, but there was no choice. More Tigers would certainly arrive soon, and neither Stark nor Golzari had enough ammunition for another firefight. In addition, they now had nine children to worry about who were still in shock from their ordeal. Even after they had food and water several of the children could barely stand.

Melanie and Warren had been able to communicate with them in a very simple fashion. The children were all from the same village, but they were only the most recent bunch brought to work in the mine. Many children from other villages had come before them. Some had still been there when this group arrived. A few of the strongest had been taken elsewhere to work. The others either died or were killed when they could no longer work. The Tigers had no trouble finding replacements. To her horror, Melanie learned that their village was apparently the one with the mass grave that she had visited before
being captured. The children were free to go home now, but they no longer had homes and families.

Golzari led the column down the back trail from the monastery, followed by Warren, then the children with Melanie, and last Stark. The moon had not yet risen, and only the four adults had flashlights or headlamps. When a child fell, Stark or Melanie would pick him or her up, administer a hug, and give a gentle push in the right direction.

The group had gone a little over two miles before Stark finally whistled to Golzari to halt and went to the front of the column to consult with him. They agreed they had to stop for the good of the children, who barely had the strength to keep up. The vegetation was sparse enough at this point to move off the trail, so Warren and Golzari quickly cleared out an area thirty yards off the path large enough for the nine children to be gathered together.

Stark and Warren took out the rest of their food, which had not been much to start with for a simple two-day mission, and distributed it to the children, then showed them how to sip from the CamelBaks. With food and water taken care of there was another issue—even here in the tropics the nights were cool. The best they could do after the children ate was to huddle them together to keep warm. Most fell asleep immediately.

“Golzari, our boat isn't scheduled to pick us up for another thirty-four hours,” Stark said quietly. “Can we get to
LeFon
's RHIB?”

“Assuming it's still there, we can get there by midmorning if we pick up the pace. With these children slowing us down it will be noon at the earliest.” His emphasis on the word “children” indicated his distaste for the situation.

“They're not just children, Damien. They're orphans,” Melanie said.

“You don't know that,” he said.

“Yes, I do,” she said softly. “I was in their village before I was taken. I saw the bodies of their parents in shallow graves. They have no one. We are not going to leave them here to fend for themselves.”

“Fine, Melanie,” he said to his ex-wife. “I was merely pointing out that we will be in broad daylight for a good bit of the time. If we encounter more Tiger patrols, how do you propose we defend ourselves and them?”

“We just do,” Stark said simply. “How many rounds do you have left?”

“Seventy. I was careful.”

“We may not have the luxury of being judicious with our shots this time.”

Stark tried to call
Syren
on the satellite phone, hoping to bring in his security teams to help extract them, but had no luck. Despite Jay's best efforts,
communication problems continued to plague them. They really needed help if they were to succeed. Even if they got to
LeFon
's RHIB by midday, they would be exposed once they were on the water.

“Jay, Melanie. The two of you get some sleep. Keep close to the kids to keep them warm.” While the journalist and the scientist settled in with the children, Stark pulled out the NVGs. He handed one pair of the goggles to Golzari as they moved closer to the trail. They agreed to divide, one on each side of the path and about ten yards off the trail itself. Golzari would focus on the path coming down from the monastery while Stark watched for anyone coming up from below.

Stark was weary, but his early career training as a surface warfare officer had accustomed him to long watch hours in the night. He allowed his body to relax while his mind stayed on high alert. Just past midnight Stark saw a flicker of light in the distance, then another, and another. “Down!” he whispered loudly to Golzari. He hoped that Warren and Melanie and the children were sleeping soundly and would make no sound that might attract the attention of the approaching insurgents.

As the lights approached, Stark counted at least thirty Tigers walking up the path with torches. He knelt next to a tree and removed the NVGs so the torchlight wouldn't blind him. He steadied his rifle and kept it trained on the approaching Tigers. He knew that Golzari was doing the same. The insurgents were making far better time on the trail than the foursome with the children had.

Although his rifle barrel was steadied against a tree, it wavered as Stark's hand continued to shake. He took a deep, quiet breath and cleared his mind, focusing on the targets. Based on their pace, and because they had not unslung their weapons, he thought Golzari could take out half of them before any managed to get off a shot. That left fifteen against two. The odds were too great. And if he and Golzari went down, the Tigers would certainly find the children. Melanie and Jay would try to protect them, he knew, but it was a risk he couldn't take. And, of course, Stark couldn't know if another company of soldiers was right behind this one. The only option was to let them pass.

One by one, the Tigers walked in between Stark and Golzari, unaware that they were one wrong move away from death. Stark held his breath as they went by. As the light of the last torch, the thirty-fourth, faded in the distance up the trail, Stark slipped across to Golzari's hiding place. “How long do you think it'll take them to get there?” he asked.

“Less than an hour, I should think.”

“They'll see the bodies and radio it in right away. Then all of them will know that someone is killing their guys,” Stark surmised.

“We can't go deeper into the land and hide out. We don't have enough food or water or shelter for those children,” Golzari responded.

Golzari was right. Besides, if they went into hiding they wouldn't be able to give the warning about the hafnium mine. They had to move out now and start the race to the ocean and the boat.

M/V
Syren

Syren
's speed saved her. She could accelerate to more than fifty knots in less than thirty seconds, but it was only because of Olivia Harrison's quick thinking that the order to do that had been given, and not before the ship paid a price.

Syren
was operating, as Stark had ordered, just over the horizon, waiting out the forty-eight hours before sending a RHIB to extract Stark and Warren. Harrison had been in similar situations when she was a lieutenant serving in a Royal Navy frigate in the Persian Gulf. The worst part of it was the waiting—the edginess that interfered with people's sleep, rest, and work.

The ship was humming along at a slow, easy seven knots in a box pattern. The Sri Lankan coastline was barely visible from the bridge level, with the lights of Mullaitivu off to the northwest and the aura of Trincomalee's lights reflecting in the night sky well to the southwest. Occasionally they saw the lights of fishing boats to the east. Perhaps a few of those were Sri Lankan, but more likely they were the Chinese long-line trawlers that
Syren
's crew had seen en route to their current assignment. The larger trawlers were easily identifiable from their lighting scheme.

Syren
had just completed a box when radar reported that one of the trawlers to the east was approaching the Highland Maritime ship at seven knots—the standard speed for fishing vessels dredging the sea to serve the markets in Shanghai, Hong Kong, Beijing, and elsewhere. The ship fit the pattern, but Harrison remained skeptical, particularly when she was informed that another trawler to the north had changed direction and was now operating in a large circular pattern. She made a decision. “CIC, bridge. I'd like to get some eyes in the sky again. Is the bird ready to fly?”

“Fuel cells are recharged, XO,” came the reply. “She'll be on the flight deck in five minutes.”

Harrison summoned the on-call security team to the deck just in case. The men positioned themselves at their six stations at the foredeck, mid-deck, and aft as the UAV was awakened and lifted from the small elevator on the starboard side of the pilothouse. When Olivia was new to the ship Stark explained that the admiral who had helped design
Syren
fifteen years before had anticipated the wide use of UAVs and had offset the pilothouse to the port side of the ship to allow room for them. The flight deck was designed to hold two standard helicopters, but an area on the starboard side of the pilothouse was set aside for UAVs.

The UAV lifted off as the aviation controller below in the CIC ordered the device to an altitude of two thousand feet. “Which direction, XO?” he asked.